If Little Labour, Little Are Our Gains:

Let's Live With That Small Pittance Which We Have; Who Covets More Is Evermore A Slave.

Show Me Thy Feet, Show Me Thy Legs, Thy Thighs Show Me Those Fleshy Principalities; Show Me That Hill Where Smiling Love Doth Sit, Having A Living Fountain Under It; Show Me Thy Waist, Then Let Me There Withal, By The Ascension Of Thy Lawn, See All.

Bid Me To Live, And I Will Livethy Protestant To Be,or Bid Me Love, And I Will Givea Loving Heart To Thee.

Welcome, Maids Of Honor, You Doe Bring In The Spring, And Wait Upon Her.

He Loves His Bonds Who, When The First Are Broke, Submits His Neck Into A Second Yoke.