A Man I Am Cross'd With Adversity.

That In The Captains But A Choleric Word Which In The Soldier Is Flat Blasphemy.

She Speaks Poniards, And Every Word Stabs.

May Never Glorious Sun Reflex His Beams Upon The Country Where You Make Abode! But Darkness And The Gloomy Shade Of Death Environ You Till Mischief And Despair Drive You To Break Your Necks Or Hang Yourselves.

Give To A Gracious Message An Host Of Tongues, But Let Ill Tidings Tell Themselves When They Be Felt.

Look On Beauty, And You Shall See 'tis Purchased By The Weight, Which Therein Works A Miracle In Nature, Making Them Lightest That Wear Most Of It.