Hereditary Sloth Instructs Me.

Oh, Injurious Love, That Respites Me A Life, Whose Very Comfort Is Still A Dying Horror

Women Being The Weaker Vessels, Are Ever Thrust To The Walls.

When Remedies Are Past, The Griefs Are Ended By Seeing The Worst, Which Late On Hopes Depended. To Mourn A Mischief That Is Past And Gone Is The Next Way To Draw New Mischief On. What Cannot Be Preserved When Fortune Takes, Patience Her Injury A Mockery Makes. The Robb'd That Smiles Steals Something For The Thief; He Robs Himself That Spends A Bootless Grief.

We Do Pray For Mercy, And That Same Prayer Doth Teach Us All To Render The Deeds Of Mercy.

Nothing Teems But Hateful Docks, Rough Thistles, Kecksies, Burs, Losing Both Beauty And Utility.