My Stronger Guilt Defeats My Strong Intent.

For Some Must Watch, While Some Must Sleep So Runs The World Away

Go To You Bosom: Knock There, And Ask Your Heart What It Doth Know.

I Am Not Prone To Weeping As Our Sex Commonly Are; The Want Of Which Vain Dew Perchance Shall Dry Your Pities; But I Have That Honorable Grief Lodged Here Which Burns Worse Than Tears Drown.

Love That Well Which Thou Must Leave Ere Long.

Should The Poor Be Flattered? No; Let The Candied Tongue Lick Absurd Pomp, And Crook The Pregnant Hinges Of The Knee Where Thrift May Follow Fawning.