Necessity Makes Dastards Valiant Men.

Here A Pretty Baby Lies Sung Asleep With Lullabies: Pray Be Silent, And Not Stirre The Easie Earth That Covers Her.

A Sweet Disorder In The Dress Kindles In Clothes A Wantonness A Lawn About The Shoulders Thrown Into A Fine Distraction.

In Things A Moderation Keep; Kings Ought To Shear, Not Skin, Their Sheep.

Lord, 'tis Thy Plenty-dropping Hand That Soils My Land, And Giv'st Me For My Bushel Sowne Twice Ten For One. All This, And Better, Thou Dost Send Me, To This End, That I Should Render, For My Part, A Thankful Heart.

In Ways To Greatness Think On This, That Slippery All Ambition Is