No Villainous Bounty Yet Hath Passed My

We Were Not Born To Sue, But To Command.

The Weary Sun Hath Made A Golden Set And By The Bright Tract Of His Fiery Car Gives Token Of A Goodly Day To-morrow.

Under The Colour Of Commending Him I Have Access My Own Love To Prefer; But Silvia Is Too Fair, Too True, Too Holy, To Be Corrupted With My Worthless Gifts.

This Is Some Fellow, Who Having Been Prais'd For Bluntness, Doth Affect A Saucy Roughness And Constrains The Garb Quite From His Nature: He Can't Flatter, He! An Honest Mind And Plain,--he Must Speak Truth! And They Will Take It So; If Not He's Plain. These Kind Of Knaves I Know, Which In This Plainness Harbor More Craft, And Far Corrupter Ends, Than Twenty Silly, Ducking Observants, That Stretch Their Duty Nicely.

I May Neither Choose Who I Would, Nor Refuse Who I Dislike; So Is The Will Of A Living Daughter Curbed By The Will Of A Dead Father.