To The Disgrace Of Men

Vice Is But A Nurse Of Agonies.

Yet Sighes, Deare Sighes, Indeeds True Friends You Are That Do Not Leave Your Left Friend At The Wurst, But, As You With My Breast, I Oft Have Nurst So, Gratefull Now, You Waite Upon My Care.

There Is Little Hope Of Equity Where Rebellion Reigns.

My True-love Hath My Heart, And I Have His, By Just Exchange, One For The Other Given; I Hold His Dear, And Mine He Cannot Miss, There Never Was A Better Bargain Driven.

Happiness Is A Sunbeam, Which May Pass Though A Thousand Bosoms Without Losing A Particle Of Its Original Ray.