Lay Not That Flattering Unction To Your

Yet Mark'd I Where The Bolt Of Cupid Fell: It Fell Upon A Little Western Flower, Before Milk-white, Now Purple With Love's Wound, And Maidens Call It Love-in-idleness.

A Woman's Thought Runs Before Her Actions.

Bear With My Weakness. My Old Brain Is Troubled. Be Not Disturbed With My Infirmity.

It Is Silliness To Live When To Live Is Torment.

In Religion, What Damned Error But Some Sober Brow Will Bless It, And Approve It With A Text, Hiding The Grossness With Fair Ornament?