In Thy Foul Throat Thou Liest.

Why, Who Cries Out On Pride That Can Therein Tax Any Private Party? Doth It Not Flow As Hugely As The Sea Till The Weary Very Means Do Ebb?

Ten Masts Make Not The Altitude Which Thou Hast Perpendicularly Fell. Thy Life's A Miracle.

There's Not A Shirt And A Half In All My Company, And The Half Shirt Is Two Napkins Tacked Together And Thrown Over The Shoulders Like A Herald's Coat Without Sleeves.

In Maiden Meditation, Fancy Free.

Our Purses Shall Be Proud, Our Garments Poor; For 'tis The Mind That Makes The Body Rich