Heaven Take My Soul, And England Keep

For The Success, Although Particular, Shall Give A Scantling Of Good Or Bad Unto The General; And In Such Indexes, Although Small Pricks To Their Subsequent Volumes, There Is Seen The Baby Figure Of The Giant Mass Of Things To Come At Large.

The Due Of Honor In No Point Omit.

Take Heed, Dear Heart, Of This Large Privilege; The Hardest Knife Ill-used Doth Lose His Edge.

Then Was I As A Tree Whose Boughs Did Bend With Fruit; But In One Night, A Storm Or Robbery, Call It What You Will, Shook Down My Mellow Hangings, Nay, My Leaves, And Left Me Bare To Weather.

The Arms Are Fair, When The Intent Of Bearing Them Is Just.