Some Asked Me Where The

Thus Times Do Shift, Each Thing His Turn Does Hold; New Things Succeed, As Former Things Grow Old.

We Credit Most Our Sight; One Eye Doth Please Our Trust Farre More Than Ten Eare-witnesses.

A Winning Wave, (deserving Note.) In The Tempestuous Petticote, A Careless Shoe-string, In Whose Tye I See A Wilde Civility,-- Doe More Bewitch Me Than When Art Is Too Precise In Every Part.

You Say To Me-wards Your Affection's Strong; Pray Love Me Little, So You Love Me Long.

Tis Hard To Find God, But To Comprehend Him, As He Is, Is Labour Without End.