Of All The Commentaries On

What If This Present Were The World's Last Night?

All Other Things To Their Destruction Draw, Only Our Love Hath No Decay.

This Extasie Doth Unperplex (we Said) And Tell Us What We Love, Wee See By This, It Was Not Sexe, Wee See, We Saw Not What Did Move: But As All Severall Soules Contain Mixture Of Things, They Know Not What, Love, These Mixt Souls, Doth Mixe Againe. Loves Mysteries In Soules Doe Grow, But Yet The Body Is His Booke.

Nothing But Man Of All Envenomed Things, Doth Work Upon Itself, With Inborn Stings.

And To 'scape Stormy Days, I Choose An Everlasting Night.