Well, I Will Find You Twenty Lascivious

Fie, Fie Upon Her! There's Language In Her Eye, Her Cheek, Her Lip, Nay, Her Foot Speaks; Her Wanton Spirits Look Out At Every Joint And Motive Of Her Body.

I Had Rather Be A Kitten And Cry Mew Than One Of These Same Metre Ballet-mongers.

It Is In Pardoning That We Are Pardoned.

Enjoy The Honey-heavy Dew Of Slumber.

Time And The Hour Run Through The Roughest Day.