I Came Up Stairs Into The World,

O, She Is The Antidote To Desire.

There Are Come Critics So With Spleen Diseased, They Scarcely Come Inclining To Be Pleased: And Sure He Must Have More Than Mortal Skill, Who Please One Against His Will.

I Nauseate Walking; 'tis A Country Diversion, I Loathe The Country.

Nothing But You Can Lay Hold Of My Mind, And That Can Lay Hold Of Nothing But You.

How Hard A Thing 'twould Be To Please You All.