There Is None Of My

Henceforth, I'll Bear Affliction Till It Do Cry Out Itself, 'enough, Enough, And Die.

In The Night, Imagining Some Fear, How Easy Is A Bush Supposed A Bear!

So May The Outward Shows Be Least Themselves: The World Is Still Deceived With Ornament. In Law, What Plea So Tainted And Corrupt, But, Being Seasoned With A Gracious Voice, Obscures The Show Of Evil? In Religion, What Damned Error, But Some Sober Brow Will Bless It And Approve It With A Text, Hiding The Grossness With Fair Ornament? There Is No Vice So Simple But Assumes Some Mark Of Virtue On His Outward Parts.

Speak Low, If You Speak Love.

To Bed, To Bed; Sleep Kill Those Pretty Eyes, And Give As Soft Attachment To Thy Senses, As Infants Empty Of All Thought.