Let Husbands Know Their Wives Have Sense

My Friends Were Poor, But Honest, So's My Love.

Time Is The Old Justice That Examines All Such Offenders, And Let Time Try.

Fondling,' She Saith, 'since I Have Hemm'd Thee Here Within The Circuit Of This Ivory Pale, I'll Be A Park, And Thou Shalt Be My Deer; Feed Where Thou Wilt, On Mountain Or In Dale: Graze On My Lips, And If Those Hills Be Dry, Stray Lower, Where The Pleasant Fountains Lie.

Many Strokes, Though With A Little Axe, Hew Down And Fell The Hardest-timber'd Oak.

Tis In Ourselves That We Are Thus Or Thus. Our Bodies Are Our Gardens To The Which Our Wills Are Gardeners.