“This is joy's bonfire, then, where love's strong artsMake of so noble individual partsOne fire of four inflaming eyes, and of two loving hearts.”

“My face in thine eye, thine in mine appeares, And true plaine hearts doe in the faces rest, Where can we finde two better hemispheares Without sharpe North, without declining West? What ever dyes, was not mixt equally; If our two loves be one, or, thou and I Love so alike, that none doe slacken, none can die.”

“If our two loves be one, or, thou and I Love so alike, that none do slacken, none can die.”

“I am two fools, I know,For loving, and for saying so.”

“The Good-MorrowI wonder by my troth, what thou, and IDid, till we lov'd? Were we not wean'd till then?But suck'd on countrey pleasures, childishly?Or snorted we in the seaven sleepers den?T'was so; But this, all pleasures fancies bee.If ever any beauty I did see,Which I desir'd, and got, 'twas but a dreame of thee.And now good morrow to our waking soules,Which watch not one another out of feare;For love, all love of other sights controules,And makes one little roome, an every where.Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone,Let Maps to other, worlds on worlds have showne,Let us possesse one world; each hath one, and is one.My face in thine eye, thine in mine appeares,And true plaine hearts doe in the faces rest,Where can we finde two better hemisphearesWithout sharpe North, without declining West?What ever dyes, was not mixed equally;If our two loves be one, or, thou and ILove so alike, that none doe slacken, none can die.”

“As virtuous men pass mildly away, And whisper to their souls to go,Whilst some of their sad friends do say, "The breath goes now," and some say, "No,"So let us melt, and make no noise, No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move;'Twere profanation of our joys To tell the laity our love.Moving of the earth brings harms and fears, Men reckon what it did and meant;But trepidation of the spheres, Though greater far, is innocent.Dull sublunary lovers' love (Whose soul is sense) cannot admitAbsence, because it doth remove Those things which elemented it.But we, by a love so much refined That our selves know not what it is,Inter-assured of the mind, Care less, eyes, lips, and hands to miss.Our two souls therefore, which are one, Though I must go, endure not yetA breach, but an expansion. Like gold to airy thinness beat.If they be two, they are two so As stiff twin compasses are two:Thy soul, the fixed foot, makes no show To move, but doth, if the other do;And though it in the center sit, Yet when the other far doth roam,It leans, and hearkens after it, And grows erect, as that comes home.Such wilt thou be to me, who must, Like the other foot, obliquely run;Thy firmness makes my circle just, And makes me end where I begun.”

“I am two fools, I know, For loving, and for saying so In whining poetry;But where's that wiseman, that would not be I, If she would not deny?Then as th' earth's inward narrow crooked lanes Do purge sea water's fretful salt away,I thought, if I could draw my pains Through rhyme's vexation, I should them allay.Grief brought to numbers cannot be so fierce,For he tames it, that fetters it in verse. But when I have done so, Some man, his art and voice to show, Doth set and sing my pain;And, by delighting many, frees again Grief, which verse did restrain.To love and grief tribute of verse belongs, But not of such as pleases when 'tis read.Both are increased by such songs, For both their triumphs so are published,And I, which was two fools, do so grow three;Who are a little wise, the best fools be.”