Demoniac Frenzy, Moping Melancholy.

Hung Over Her Enamour'd, And Beheld Beauty, Which, Whether Waking Or Asleep, Shot Forth Peculiar Graces.

With Thee Goes Thy Husband, Him To Follow Thou Art Bound; Where He Abides, Think There Thy Native Soil.

And Live Like Nature's Bastards, Not Her Sons.

With Thee Conversing I Forget All Time.

Know Thy Birth! For Dost Thou Art, And Shalt To Dust Return.