Fain Would I Kiss My Julia's Dainty

In Prayer The Lips Ne'er Act The Winning Part, Without The Sweet Concurrence Of The Heart.

Next, When I Cast Mine Eyes And See That Brave Vibration Each Way Free, O How That Glittering Taketh Me!

The Body Is The Soul's Poor House Or Home, Whose Ribs The Laths Are And Whose Flesh The Loam.

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

Twixt Kings And Tyrants There's This Difference Known; Kings Seek Their Subjects' Good: Tyrants Their Own.