Just Death, Kind Umpire Of Men's Miseries.

Things Are Often Spoke And Seldom Meant.

A Great Perturbation In Nature, To Receive At Once The Benefit Of Sleep And Do The Effects Of Watching!

Nothing 'gainst Times Scythe Can Make Defence.

So Holy And So Perfect Is My Love, And I In Such A Poverty Of Grace, That I Shall Think It A Most Plenteous Crop To Glean The Broken Ears After The Man That The Main Harvest Reaps.

Now, Neighbor Confines, Purge You Of Your Scum! Have You A Ruffian That Will Swear, Drink, Dance, Revel The Night, Rob, Murder, And Commit The Oldest Sins The Newest Kind Of Ways?