first meeting

• What lady’s that which doth enrich the hand; Of yonder knight?
• O she doth the torches to burn bright!; It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night
• This holy shrine, the gentle sin is this; My lips, two brushing pilgrims, ready stand
• And palm to palm is holy palmers’ kiss
• My life is my foe’s debt
• If he be married; My grave is like to be my wedding bed
• My only love sprung from my only hate!