He Is White-livered And Red-faced.

And Some That Smile Have In Their Hearts, I Fear, Millions Of Mischiefs.

Hot And Hasty, Like A Scotch Jig.

My Chastity's The Jewel Of Our House, Bequeathed Down From Many Ancestors.

Fondling,' She Saith, 'since I Have Hemm'd Thee Here Within The Circuit Of This Ivory Pale, I'll Be A Park, And Thou Shalt Be My Deer; Feed Where Thou Wilt, On Mountain Or In Dale: Graze On My Lips, And If Those Hills Be Dry, Stray Lower, Where The Pleasant Fountains Lie.

Of All Complexions The Culled Sovereignty Do Meet, As At A Fair, In Her Fair Cheek, Where Several Worthies Make One Dignity, Where Nothing Wants That Want Itself Doth Seek.