I Have A Hundred Times Wished That

The Great Creator To Revere Must Sure Become The Creature; But Still The Preaching Cant Forbear, And Ev'n The Rigid Feature: Yet Ne'er With Wits Profane To Range Be Complaisance Extended;an Atheist Laugh's A Poor Exchange For Deity Offended.

I Look On The Opposite Sex With Something Like The Admiration With Which I Regard The Starry Sky On A Frosty December Night. I Admire The Beauty Of The Creator's Workmanship, I Am Charmed With The Wild But Graceful Eccentricity Of The Motions, And Then I Wish Both Of Them Goodnight.

In Durance Vile 1here Must I Wake And Weep, And All My Frowsy Couch In Sorrow Steep.

Ah, Gentle Dames! It Gars Me Greet To Think How Monie Counsels Sweet, How Monie Lengthened Sage Advices, The Husband Frae The Wife Despises.

His Locked, Lettered, Braw Brass Collar, Shewed Him The Gentleman And Scholar.