Nature Meant Me A Wife, A Silly,

Pains Of Love Be Sweeter Far Than All Other Pleasures Are.

When The Sun Sets, Shadows, That Shew'd At Noon But Small, Appear Most Long And Terrible; So, When We Think Fate Hovers O'er Our Heads, Our Apprehensions Shoot Beyond All Bounds, Owls, Ravens, Crickets Seem The Watch Of Death, Nature's Worst Vermine Scare Her God-like Sons. Ecchoes The Very Leavings Of A Voice, Grow Babling Ghosts, And Call Us To Our Graves: Each Mole-hill Thought Swells To A Huge Olympus, While We Fantastick Dreamers Heave And Puff, And Sweat With An Imagination's Weight.

Heaven Be Thanked, We Live In Such An Age, When No Man Dies For Love, But On The Stage.

Thoughts Cannot Form Themselves In Words So Horrid As Can Express My Guilt.

I Am Resolved To Grow Fat, And Look Young Till Forty.