Old Fashions Please Me Best; I Am

I Must Have Liberty Withal, As Large A Charter As The Wind, To Blow On Whom I Please, For So Fools Have.

For I Can Raise No Money By Vile Means.

To Pore Upon A Book, To Seek The Light Of Truth.

Is He On His Horse? O Happy Horse, To Bear The Weight Of Antony!

If I May Trust The Flattering Truth Of Sleep, My Dreams Presage Some Joyful News At Hand. My Bosom's Lord Sits Lightly In His Throne, And All This Day An Unaccustomed Spirit Lifts Me Above The Ground With Cheerful Thoughts.