Highly Fed And Lowly Taught.

So Full Of Artless Jealousy Is Guilt, It Spills Itself In Fearing To Be Spilt.

Well, I Must Be Patient; There Is No Fettering Of Authority.

What Our Contempts Do Often Hurl From Us, We Wish It Ours Again.

Ay Me! Sad Hours Seem Long.

The Bashful Virgin's Sidelong Looks Of Love, The Matron's Glance That Would Those Looks Reprove.