You Shall More Command With Years Than

Journeys End In Lovers Meeting.

If Fortune Torments Me, Hope Contents Me.

I’ll Look To Like, If Looking Liking Move; But No More Deep Will I Endart Mine Eye Than Your Consent Gives Strength To Make It Fly.

Mechanic Slaves With Greasy Aprons, Rules, And Hammers, Shall Uplift Us To The View.

Tis Beauty That Doth Oft Make Women Proud; But, God He Knows, Thy Share Thereof Is Small.