Happy Is The Bride That The Sun

Praise They That Will Times Past, I Joy To See My Selfe Now Live: This Age Best Pleaseth Mee.

Men Are Suspicious; Prone To Discontent: Subjects Still Loathe The Present Government.

Go To Your Banquet Then, But Use Delight So As To Rise Still With An Appetite.

Lord, 'tis Thy Plenty-dropping Hand That Soils My Land, And Giv'st Me For My Bushel Sowne Twice Ten For One. All This, And Better, Thou Dost Send Me, To This End, That I Should Render, For My Part, A Thankful Heart.

Well I Sup And Well I Dine, When I Drink My Frolic Wine.