The Phoenix riddle hath more wit By us, we two being one, are it. So to one neutral thing both sexes fit, We die and rise the same, and prove Mysterious by this love.
I long to talk with some old lover's ghost, Who died before the god of love was born.
As soon as there was two there was pride.
Religion is not a melancholy, the spirit of God is not a damper.
Let not thy divining heart Forethink me any ill; Destiny may take thy part, And may thy fears fulfill.
Love built on beauty, soon as beauty, dies.