Force Works On Servile Natures, Not The

I Feel My Griefs Too, And There Scarce Is Ground Upon My Flesh T'inflict Another Wound. Yet Dare I Not Complain, Or Wish For Death With Holy Paul; Lest It Be Thought The Breath Of Discontent; Or That These Prayers Be For Weariness Of Life, Not Love Of Thee.

Nor Shall Our Cups Make Any Guilty Men; But At Our Parting, We Will Be, As When We Innocently Met.

No Simple Word That Shall Be Uttered At Our Mirthful Board, Shall Make Us Sad Next Morning; Or Affright The Liberty That We'll Enjoy To-night.

Woman, The More Careful She Is About Her Face, The More Careless About Her House.

A Good Life Is A Main Argument.