One Sin Another Doth Provoke.

Thus Weary Of The World, Away She Hies, And Yokes Her Silver Doves; By Whose Swift Aid Their Mistress Mounted Through The Empty Skies In Her Light Chariot Quickly Is Convey'd; Holding Their Course To Paphos, Where Their Queen Means To Immure Herself And Not Be Seen.

What Is More Miserable Than Discontent?

I Am That Merry Wanderer Of The Night.

Lord, Lord, How Subject We Old Men Are To This Vice Of Lying!

Do As The Heavens Have Done, Forget Your Evil; With Them Forgive Yourself.