Jigging Veins Of Rhyming Mother Wits.

O, Thou Art Fairer Than The Evening Air Clad In The Beauty Of A Thousand Stars.

There Is No Sin But Ignorance.

What Are Kings, When Regiment Is Gone, But Perfect Shadows In A Sunshine Day?

Who Ever Loved That Loved Not At First Sight?

I Count Religion But A Childish Toy, And Hold There Is No Sin But Ignorance.