O, She's Warm! If This

Sleep, That Sometimes Shuts Up Sorrow's Eye.

Vanity Keeps Persons In Favor With Themselves Who Are Out Of Favor With All Others.

Tis No Sin For A Man To Labor In His Vocation.

O How Wretched Is That Poor Man That Hangs On Princes Favors! There Is Betwixt That Smile We Would Aspire To, That Sweet Aspect Of Princes, And Their Ruin, More Pangs And Fears Than Wars Or Women Have, And When He Falls, He Falls Like Lucifer, Never To Hope Again.

Hung Be The Heavens With Black! Yield, Day, To Night!