The Clock Upbraids Me With

Happy Are They That Hear Their Detractions, And Can Put Them To Mending.

This Is Some Fellow, Who Having Been Prais'd For Bluntness, Doth Affect A Saucy Roughness And Constrains The Garb Quite From His Nature: He Can't Flatter, He! An Honest Mind And Plain,--he Must Speak Truth! And They Will Take It So; If Not He's Plain. These Kind Of Knaves I Know, Which In This Plainness Harbor More Craft, And Far Corrupter Ends, Than Twenty Silly, Ducking Observants, That Stretch Their Duty Nicely.

The Course Of True Love Never Did Run Smooth.

Sweet Flowers Are Slow And Weeds Make Haste.

Dream On, Dream On, Of Bloody Deeds And Death.