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Sir, more than kisses, letters mingle souls. For, thus friends absent speak.
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Men are sponges, which, to pour out, receive; Who know false play, rather than lose, deceive. For in best understandings sin began, Angels sinn'd first, then devils, and then man. Only perchance beasts sin not ; wretched we Are beasts in all but white integrity.
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Death be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadfull, for thou art not so, For, those, whom thou thinkst, thou dost overthrow, die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
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Whatever dies, was not mix'd equally ;If our two loves be one, or thou and I Love so alike that none can slacken, none can die.
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Twice or thrice had I loved thee, Before I knew thy face or name.
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