There's Many A Man Hath More Hair

Men So Noble, However Faulty, Yet Should Find Respect For What They Have Been: 'tis A Cruelty To Load A Falling Man.

I Could Be Well Content To Entertain The Lag-end Of My Life With Quiet Hours.

Your Cause Of Sorrow Must Not Be Measured By His Worth, For Then It Hath No End.

You Great Benefactors, Sprinkle Our Society With Thankfulness. For Your Own Gifts, Make Yourselves Praised.

Under The Colour Of Commending Him I Have Access My Own Love To Prefer; But Silvia Is Too Fair, Too True, Too Holy, To Be Corrupted With My Worthless Gifts.