Where I Could Not Be Honest, I

If Yon Bethink Yourself Of Any Crime Unreconcil'd As Yet To Heaven And Grace, Solicit For It Straight.

The Hand That Hath Made You Fair Hath Made You Good. Pity Is The Virtue Of The Law, And None But Tyrants Use It Cruelly.

For Which Of My Bad Parts Didst Thou First Fall In Love With Me?

Be Checked For Silence, But Never Taxed For Speech.

A Peevish Self-willed Harlotry It Is. *she’s A Stubborn Little Brat.*