In Victory, The Hero Seeks The Glory,

But Words Came Halting Forth, Wanting Invention's Stay; Invention, Nature's Child, Fled Stepdame Study's Blows; And Others' Feet Still Seemed But Strangers In My Way. Thus, Great With Child To Speak, And Helpless In My Throes, Biting My Truant Pen, Beating Myself For Spite: "fool," Said My Muse To Me, "look In Thy Heart, And Write.

My True-love Hath My Heart, And I Have His, By Just Exchange, One For The Other Given; I Hold His Dear, And Mine He Cannot Miss, There Never Was A Better Bargain Driven.

Vice Is But A Nurse Of Agonies.

Every Present Occasion Will Catch The Senses Of The Vain Man; And With That Bridle And Saddle You May Ride Him.

The Ingredients Of Health And Long Life, Are Great Temperance, Open Air, Easy Labor, And Little Care.