Some There Be That Shadows

I Am A Man More Sinned Against Than Sinning

The Man That Hath No Music In Himself

Grief Makes One Hour Ten.

I Had Rather Be A Kitten, And Cry Mew, Than One Of These Same Meeter Ballad-mongers: I Had Rather Heare A Brazen Candlestick Turn'd, Or A Dry Wheele Grate On The Axle-tree, And That Would Set My Teeth Nothing An Edge, Nothing So Much, As Mincing Poetrie.

Tis Time To Fear When Tyrants Seem To Kiss.