Your Bait Of Falsehood Takes This Carp

O World, How Apt The Poor Are To Be Proud!

O, Pardon Me, Thou Bleeding Piece Of Earth, / That I Am Meek And Gentle With These Butchers!

In That Small [time] Most Greatly Lived This Star Of England: Fortune Made His Sword, By Which The World's Best Garden He Achiev'd And Left It To His Son Imperial Lord. Henry The Sixth, In Infant Bands Crown'd King Of France And England Did This King Succeed; Whose State So Many Of Had The Managing, That They Lost France And Made His England Bleed.

I Myself Am Best When Least In Company.

Sin From Thy Lips? O Trespass Sweetly Urged! Give Me My Sin Again.