it gives me wonder great my content To see you here before me. O my soul's joy! I,it after every tempest comes such calms,May the winds blow till they have waken'd death! And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas Olympus-high and duck again as low as hell's from heaven! If it were now to die, 'twere now to be most happy; for, i fear,, My soul hath her comfort like to this succeeds in unknown fate.
The heavens forbid but that our loves and comforts should increase, even as our days to grow.
Amen to that, sweet powers! I cannot speak Enough of this content; it stops me here; it is too much of joy: and this, and, the greatest discords be kissing her that e'er our hearts shall make!
O, you are well tuned now! But i'll set down the pegs that make this music, as honest as i am