Love is blind and lovers cannot see the pretty follies that themselves commit.

Graze on my lips$$$ and if those hills be dry$$$
Stray lower$$$ where the pleasant fountains lie.

If any love you owe me
Measure my strangeness with my unripe years.
Before I know myself$$$ seek not to know me.

To this urn let those repair
That are either true or fair;
For these dead birds sigh a prayer.

Love has reason$$$ reason none$$$If what parts can so remain.

Simple were so well compounded

Distance and no space was seen
'Twixt this Turtle and his queen:
But in them it were a wonder.

But thou shrieking harbinger$$$Foul precurrer of the fiend

Let the bird of loudest layOn the sole Arabian tree

This forced league doth force a further strife.