Old Time The Clock-setter.

Beauty's A Doubtful Good, A Glass, A Flower, Lost, Faded, Broken, Dead Within An Hour; And Beauty, Blemish'd Once, For Ever's Lost, In Spite Of Physic, Painting, Pain, And Cost.

Give Me A Bowl Of Wine, In This I Bury All Unkindness.

Sweets Grown Common Lose Their Dear Delight.

I Cannot Be A Man With Wishing, Therefore I Will Die A Woman With Grieving.

Then Come Kiss Me, Sweet And Twenty.