I Humbly Do Beseech Of

Through Tattered Clothes Great Vices Do Appear; Robes And Furred Gowns Hide All. Plate Sin With Gold And The Strong Lance Of Justice Hurtless Breaks. Arm It In Rags, A Pigmy's Straw Does Pierce It.

Look On Beauty, And You Shall See 'tis Purchased By The Weight, Which Therein Works A Miracle In Nature, Making Them Lightest That Wear Most Of It.

So Wise So Young, They Say, Do Never Live Long.

To Kill, I Grant, Is Sin's Extremest Gust; But, In Defence, By Mercy, 'tis Most Just.

Instinct Is A Great Matter. I Was Now A Coward On Instinct.