Thursday Come, And The Week's

To Buy Deare Is Not Bounty.

Halfe The World Knowes Not How The Other Halfe Lies.

There Is An Hour Wherein A Man Might Be Happy All His Life, Could He Find It.

I Read, And Sigh, And Wish I Were A Tree; For Sure Then I Should Grow To Fruit Or Shade: At Least Some Bird Would Trust Her Household To Me, And I Should Be Just.

Death Keepes No Calender.