John Donne

“ By thee the seely Amorous sucks his death By drawing in a leprous harlots breath, By thee, the greatest staine to mans estate Falls on us, to be call'd effeminate; Though you be much lov'd in the Princes hall, There, things that seeme, exceed substantiall. Gods, when yee fum'd on altars, were pleas'd well, Because you'were burnt, not that they lik'd your smell, You'are loathsome all, being taken simply alone, Shall wee love ill things joyn'd, and hate each one? ”

“ The grim-eight-foot-high-iron-bound serving-man, That oft names God in oathes, and onely than, He that to barre the first gate, doth as wide As the great Rhodian Clolssos stride, Which, if in hell no other paines there were, Makes mee feare hell, because he must be there: Though by thy father he were hir'd to this, Could never witnesse any touch or kisse ”

“ Though thy immortall mother which doth lye, Still buried in her bed, yet will not dye, Takes this advantage to to sleepe out day-light, And watch thy entries, and returnes all night, And, when she takes thy hand, and would seeme kind, Doth search what rings, and armelets she can finde, And kissing notes the colour of thy face, And fearing least thou'art swolne, doth thee embrace ”