Wish Chastely, And Love Dearly.

This Making Of Christians Will Raise The Price Of Hogs.

Un-thread The Rude Eye Of Rebellion, And Welcome Home Again Discarded Faith.

For In The Fatness Of These Pursy Times Virtue Itself Of Vice Must Pardon Beg.

If After Every Tempest Come Such Calms, May The Winds Blow Till They Have Waken'd Death!

O Sleep! O Gentle Sleep! Nature's Soft Nurse, How Have I Frighted Thee, That Thou No More Wilt Weigh My Eyelids Down And Steep My Senses In Forgetfulness? Why Rather, Sleep, Liest Thou In Smoky Cribs, Upon Uneasy Pallets Stretching Thee, And Hush'd With Buzzing Night-flies To Thy Slumber, Than In The Perfum'd Chambers Of The Great, Under The Canopies Of Costly State, And Lull'd With Sound Of Sweetest Melody?