If Gold Knew What Gold Is, Gold

God Provides For Him That Trusteth.

Three Women Make A Market.

Evening Words Are Not Like To Morning.

Shall I, To Please Another Wine-sprung Minde, Lose All Mine Own? God Hath Giv'n Me A Measure Short Of His Can And Body; Must I Find A Pain In That, Wherein He Finds A Pleasure?

Better Never Begin Than Never Make An End.