Every Man Has Business And Desire, Such

Should All Despair That Have Revolted Wives, The Tenth Of Mankind Would Hang Themselves.

Bounty, Being Free Itself, Thinks All Others So.

O, Had I But Followed The Arts!

You May My Glories And My State Depose, But Not My Griefes; Still Am I King Of Those.

Fondling,' She Saith, 'since I Have Hemm'd Thee Here Within The Circuit Of This Ivory Pale, I'll Be A Park, And Thou Shalt Be My Deer; Feed Where Thou Wilt, On Mountain Or In Dale: Graze On My Lips, And If Those Hills Be Dry, Stray Lower, Where The Pleasant Fountains Lie.