My Business Was Great, And In Such

There's Beggary In Love That Can Be Reckoned

The Sense Of Death Is Most In Apprehension, And The Poor Beetle, That We Tread Upon, In Corporal Sufferance Finds A Pang As Great As When A Giant Dies.

Every Fair From Fair Sometime Declines

Demand Me Nothing: What You Know, You Know.

There Is An Old Poor Man,. . . . Oppress'd With Two Weak Evils, Age And Hunger.