Pain Pays The Income Of Each Precious

I Swear Again, I Would Not Be A Queen For All The World.

Fit For The Mountains And The Barbarous Caves, Where Manners Ne'er Were Preached.

As I Hope For Quiet Days, Fair Issue, And Long Life, With Such Love As 'tis Now, The Murkiest Den, The Most Opportune Place, The Strong'st Suggestion Our Worser Genius Can, Shall Never Melt Mine Honour Into Lust, To Take Away The Edge Of That Day's Celebration, When I Shall Think Or Phoebus' Steeds Are Founder'd Or Night Kept Chain'd Below.

Now My Charms Are All O'erthrown.

Affliction Is Enamoured Of Thy Parts, And Thou Art Wedded To Calamity.