My Way Of Life Is Fall'n Into

This Making Of Christians Will Raise The Price Of Hogs.

The Quality Of Nothing Hath Not Such Need To Hide Itself

Good Morrow, Fair Ones; Pray You, If You Know, Where In The Purlieus Of This Forest Stands A Sheep-cote Fenc'd About With Olive Trees?

I Humbly Do Beseech Of Your Pardon, For Too Much Loving You

So Distribution Should Undo Excess, And Each Man Have Enough.