I Think The King Is But A

It Is Meant That Noble Minds Keep Ever With Their Likes; For Who So Firm That Cannot Be Seduced.

Go To You Bosom: Knock There, And Ask Your Heart What It Doth Know.

I Am That Merry Wanderer Of The Night.

Cupid Is A Knavish Lad, Thus To Make Poor Females Mad.

Beauty's A Doubtful Good, A Glass, A Flower, Lost, Faded, Broken, Dead Within An Hour; And Beauty, Blemish'd Once, For Ever's Lost, In Spite Of Physic, Painting, Pain, And Cost.