You Peasant Swain! You Whoreson Malt-horse Drudge!

Ask God For Temp'rance. That's Th' Appliance Only Which Your Disease Requires.

There Is No Slander In An Allowed Fool, Though He Do Nothing But Rail.

The Tempter Or The Tempted, Who Sins Most? Ha! Not She: Nor Doth She Tempt: But It Is I That, Lying By The Violet In The Sun, Do As The Carrion Does, Not As The Flower, Corrupt With Virtuous Season.

Up And Down, Up And Down I Will Lead Them Up And Down I Am Feared In Field In Town Goblin, Lead Them Up And Down

Summer's Lease Hath All Too Short A Date.