O, Where Is Loyalty? If It Be

As You From Crimes Would Pardon'd Be, Let Your Indulgence Set Me Free.

Thy Wit Is A Very Bitter Sweeting; It Is A Most Sharp Sauce.

Sleep, That Sometimes Shuts Up Sorrow's Eye.

Let's Meet As Little As We Can

Had It Pleas'd Heaven To Try Me With Affliction * * * I Should Have Found In Some Place Of My Soul A Drop Of Patience.