Nature Hath Framed Strange Fellows In Her

You Kiss By Th' Book.

So Many Miseries Have Craz'd My Voice, That My Woe-wearied Tongue Is Still And Mute.

The Sweat Of Industry Would Dry And Die, But For The End It Works To.

A Man May See How This World Goes With No Eyes. Look With Thine Ears: See How Yond Justice Rails Upon Yon Simple Thief. Hark, In Thine Ear: Change Places; And, Handy-dandy, Which Is The Justice, Which Is The Thief?

Oh, Thou Did'st Then Ne'er Love So Heartily. If Thou Rememb'rest Not The Slightest Folly That Ever Love Did Make Thee Run Inot, Thou Has Not Loved. Of If Thou Has't Not Sat As I Do Now, Wearying They Hearer In Thy Mistress's Praise, Thou Has Not Loved. Of If Thou Hast Not Broke From Company Abruptly, As My Passion Now Makes Me, Thou Has Not Loved. (silvius)