T Is The Will That Makes The

A Little Saint Best Fits A Little Shrine, A Little Prop Best Fits A Little Vine, As My Small Cruse Best Fits My Little Wine.

T Is The Will That Makes The Action Good Or Ill.

He Loves His Bonds Who, When The First Are Broke, Submits His Neck Into A Second Yoke.

Welcome, Maids Of Honor, You Doe Bring In The Spring, And Wait Upon Her.

Tears Are The Noble Language Of Eyes, And When True Love Of Words Is Destitute. The Eye By Tears Speak, While The Tongue Is Mute.