“O Deus Ego Amo TeOh God, I love Thee mightily,Not only for Thy saving me, Nor yet because who love not TheeMust burn throughout eternity.Thou, Thou, my Jesu, once didst meEmbrace upon the bitter Tree.For me the nails, the soldier's spear, With injury and insult, bear-In pain all pain exceeding,In sweating and in bleeding,Yea, very death, and that for meA sinner all unheeding!O Jesu, should I not love TheeWho thus hast dealt so lovingly-Not hoping some reward to see,Nor lest I my damnation be;But as Thyself hast loved me,So love I now and always Thee,Because my King alone Thou art,Because, O God, mine own Thou art!”

“Belatedly I loved thee, O Beauty so ancient and so new, belatedly I loved thee. For see, thou wast within and I was without, and I sought thee out there. Unlovely, I rushed heedlessly among the lovely things thou hast made. Thou wast with me, but I was not with thee. These things kept me far from thee; even though they were not at all unless they were in thee. Thou didst call and cry aloud, and didst force open my deafness. Thou didst gleam and shine, and didst chase away my blindness. Thou didst breathe fragrant odors and I drew in my breath; and now I pant for thee. I tasted, and now I hunger and thirst. Thou didst touch me, and I burned for thy peace.”

“How many actions most ridiculous/Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy?CORIN: Into a thousand that I have forgotten.SILVIUS: O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily!/If thou remember'st not the slightest folly/That ever love did make thee run into,/Thou hast not loved:/Or if thou hast not sat as I do now,/Wearying thy hearer in thy mistress' praise,/Thou hast not loved...”

“Take all my loves, my love, yea, take them all,What hast thou then more than thou hadst before? No love, my love, that thou mayst true love call, All mine was thine, before thou hadst this more. Then if for my love thou my love receivest,I cannot blame thee for my love thou usest, But yet be blam’d, if thou this self deceivest By willful taste of what thyself refusest.”

“If thou art indeed my father, then hast thou stained thy sword in the life-blood of thy son. And thous didst it of thine obstinacy. For I sought to turn thee unto love, and I implored of thee thy name, for I thought to behold in thee the tokens recounted of my mother. But I appealed unto thy heart in vain, and now is the time gone for meeting.”

“Oh, thou did'st then ne'er love so heartily.If thou rememb'rest not the slightest follyThat ever love did make thee run inot,Thou has not loved.Of if thou has't not sat as I do now,Wearying they hearer in thy mistress's praise,Thou has not loved.Of if thou hast not broke from companyAbruptly, as my passion now makes me,Thou has not loved. (Silvius)”