There's No More Faith In Thee Than

The Heart Hath Treble Wrong When It Is Barr'd The Aidance Of The Tongue.

Let Us, Like Merchants, Show Our Foulest Wares, And Think Perchance They'll Sell; If Not, The Lustre Of The Better Yet To Show Shall Show The Better.

Is There No Respect Of Place, Persons, Nor Time In You?

If Chance Will Have Me King, Why, Chance May Crown Me.

Let Husbands Know Their Wives Have Sense Like Them. They See, And Smell, And Have Their Palates Both For Sweet And Sour, As Husbands Have.