O Tiger's Heart Wrapped In A Woman's

What Is A Man, If His Chief Good And Market Of His Time Be But To Sleep And Feed? A Beast, No More. Sure He That Made Us With Such Large Discourse, Looking Before And After, Gave Us Not That Capability And God-like Reason To Fust In Us Unused.

Winding Up Days With Toil And Nights With Sleep.

Things Bad Begun Make Strong Themselves By Ill.

I Am Such A Tender Ass, If My Hair Do But Tickle Me, I Must Scratch.

God Grant Us Patience!