Tis Easier To Build Two Chimneys, Then

Folly Growes Without Watering.

Sweet Rose, Whose Hue, Angry And Brave, Bids The Rash Gazer Wipe His Eye, Thy Root Is Even In The Grave, And Thou Must Die.

A Poore Beauty Finds More Lovers Then Husbands.

He That Looseth Is Marchant As Well As He That Gaines.

Thou That Hast Given So Much To Me Give Me One Thing More, A Grateful Heart: Not Thankful When It Pleaseth Me, As If Thy Blessings Had Spare Days, But Such A Heart Whose Pulse May Be Thy Praise.