In Nature's Infinite Book Of Secrecy A

Age Cannot Wither Her, Nor Custom Stale Her Infinite Variety.

Who Finds The Heifer Dead And Bleeding Fresh And Sees Fast-by A Butcher With An Axe, But Will Suspect 'twas He That Made The Slaughter?

Men Should Be What They Seem.

Alas, Their Love May Be Call'd Appetite. No Motion Of The Liver, But The Palate

Flower Of This Purple Dye, Hit With Cupid's Archery, Sink In Apple Of His Eye.