I Heard A Bird So Sing, Whose

Two Loves I Have, Of Comfort And Despair, Which Like Two Spirits Do Suggest Me Still: The Better Angel Is A Man Right Fair, The Worser Spirit A Woman Coloured Ill.

Whose Heart The Accustom'd Sight Of Death Makes Hard.

O Villains, Vipers, Dogs, Easily Won To Fawn On Any Man!

Yet But Three Come One More. Two Of Both Kinds Make Up Four. Ere She Comes Curst And Sad. Cupid Is A Knavish Lad. Thus To Make Poor Females Mad.

A College Of Wit-crackers Cannot Flout Me Out Of My Humor. Dost Thou Think I Care For A Satire Or An Epigram?