Could Beauty, My Lord, Have Better Commerce

Every Subject's Duty Is The Kings, But Every Subject's Soul Is His Own.

How Soar Sweet Music Is, When Time Is Broke, And No Proportion Kept!

This Look Of Thine Will Hurl My Soul From Heaven.

A Pox O’ Your Throat, You Bawling, Blasphemous, Incharitable Dog!

Love Is My Sin, And Thy Dear Virtue Hate, Hate Of My Sin, Grounded On Sinful Loving.