Holy, Fair, And Wise Is She; The

Omittance Is No Quittance.

Nature Hath Meal And Bran, Contempt And Grace.

His Worst Fault Is, He's Given To Prayer; He Is Something Peevish That Way.

That We Would Do We Should Do When We Would, For This 'would' Changes, And Hath Abatements And Delays As Many As There Are Tongues, Are Hands, Are Accidents, And Then This 'should' Is Like A Spendthrift Sigh, That Hurts By Easing.

Look Like The Innocent Flower, But Be The Serpent Under It.