Not An Angel Of The Air, Bird

Make Me A Willow Cabin At Your Gate, And Call Upon My Soul Within The House; Write Loyal Cantons Of Contemned Love And Sing Them Loud Even In The Dead Of Night.

You Taught Me Language, And My Profit On't / Is, I Know How To Curse

To Show An Unfelt Sorrow Is An Office Which The False Man Does Easy.

God Grant Us Patience!

Thy Husband Is Thy Lord, Thy Life, Thy Keeper, Thy Head, Thy Sovereign; One That Cares For Thee, And For Thy Maintenance Commits His Body To Painful Labour Both By Sea And Land, To Watch The Night In Storms, The Day In Cold, Whilst Thou Liest Warm At Home, Secure And Safe; And Craves No Other Tribute At Thy Hands But Love, Fair Looks And True Obedience; Too Little Payment For So Great A Debt.