I Hate The Murderer, Love Him Murdered.

O Braggart Vile And Damned Furious Wight!

There Are No Tricks In Plain And Simple Faith.

O, Then, What Graces In My Love Do Dwell, That He Hath Turn'd A Heaven Unto Hell

Wisdom Cries Out In The Streets, And No Man Regards It.

The Pleasant'st Angling Is To See The Fish Cut With Her Golden Oars The Silver Stream And Greedily Devour The Treacherous Bait.