The Soul's Calm Sunshine, And The Heartfelt

Ask For What End The Heavenly Bodies Shine, Earth For Whose Use? Pride Answers, 'tis For Mine For Me Kind Nature Wakes Her Genial Power, Suckles Each Herb, And Spreads Out Every Flower.

Nature Made Every Fop To Plague His Brother, Just As One Beauty Mortifies Another.

Who Are Next To Knaves? Those That Converse With Them.

As The Twig Is Bent, So Grows The Tree.

How Shall I Lose The Sin, Yet Keep The Sense, And Love The Offender, Yet Detest The Offence?