Seasoned Life Of Man Preserved

Hung Over Her Enamour'd, And Beheld Beauty, Which, Whether Waking Or Asleep, Shot Forth Peculiar Graces.

So May'st Thou Live, Till Like Ripe Fruit Thou Drop Into Thy Mother's Lap.

Hell Has No Benefits, Only Torture.

All Seemed Well Pleased, All Seemed, But Were Not All.

With A Smile That Glow'd Celestial Rosy Red, Love's Proper Hue.