The Hand Of Little Employment

To Unpathed Waters, Undreamed Shores.

A Fool's Bolt Is Soon Shot.

...and Then, In Dreaming, / The Clouds Methought Would Open And Show Riches / Ready To Drop Upon Me, That When I Waked / I Cried To Dream Again.

O' Thinkest Thou We Shall Ever Meet Again? I Doubt It Not; And All These Woes Shall Serve For Sweet Discourses In Our Times To Come.

Divers Philosophers Hold That The Lips Is Parcel Of The Mouth.