My Hands Are Guilty, But My Heart

Happy The Man, And Happy He Alone, He, Who Can Call Today His Own.

Freedom Which In No Other Land Will Thrive, Freedom An English Subject's Sole Prerogative.

If We From Wealth To Poverty Descend, Want Gives To Know The Flatterer From The Friend.

Much Malice Mingled With A Little Wit Perhaps May Censure This Mysterious Writ.

The Blushing Beauties Of A Modest Maid.