Till Our King Henry Had Shook Hands

There Is An Old Poor Man,. . . . Oppress'd With Two Weak Evils, Age And Hunger.

I Can Hardly Forbear Hurling Things At Him.

So Holy Writ In Babes Hath Judgment Shown When Judges Have Been Babes; Great Floods Have Flown From Simple Sources, And Great Seas Have Dried When Miracles Have By The Greatest Been Denied.

Every Thing That Grows / Holds In Perfection But A Little Moment.

They May Seize On The White Wonder Of Dear Juliet's Hand And Steal Immortal Blessing From Her Lips, Who, Even In Pure And Vestal Modesty, Still Blush, As Thinking Their Own Kisses Sin.