Chastity is not chastity in an old man, but a disability to be unchaste.
This only is charity, to do all, all that we can.
How great love is, presence best trial makes, But absence tries how long this love will be.
One short sleep past, we wake eternally, And Death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
At the round earth's imagined corners, blow your trumpets, angels.
Sweetest love, I do not go, For weariness of thee, Nor in hope the world can show A fitter love for me; But since that I Must die at last, 'tis best, To use my self in jest Thus by feign'd deaths to die.