Look, What A Horse Should Have He

The Brightness Of Her Cheek Would Shame Those Stars As Daylight Doth A Lamp; Her Eyes In Heaven Would Through The Airy Region Stream So Bright That Birds Would Sing, And Think It Were Not Night.

Well, Every One Can Master A Grief But He That Has It.

There's Place And Means For Every Man Alive.

Oh! It Offends Me To The Soul To Hear A Robust Periwig-pated Fellow, Tear A Passion To Tatters, To Very Rags, To Split The Ears Of The Groundlings.

Praising What Is Lost Makes The Remembrance Dear