I Had Rather Live With Cheese And

My Love Is Deep; The More I Give To Thee, The More I Have, Both Are Infinite.

Ambition's Debt Is Paid.

Glory Grows Guilty Of Detested Crimes.

I'll Have No Husband, If You Be Not He.

Though Now This Grained Face Of Mine Be Hid In Sap-consuming Winter's Drizzled Snow, And All The Conduits Of My Blood Froze Up, Yet Hath My Night Of Life Some Memory, My Wasting Lamps Some Fading Glimmer Left, My Dull Deaf Ears A Little Use To Hear.