Tis Hard To Find God, But To

The First Act's Doubtful, But We Say, It Is The Last Commends The Play.

When A Daffadill I See, Hanging Down His Head Towards Me, Guess I May, What I Must Be: First, I Shall Decline My Head; Secondly, I Shall Be Dead: Lastly, Safely Buryed.

Hell Is No Other But A Soundlesse Pit, Where No One Beame Of Comfort Peeps In It.

A Careless Shoe String, In Whose Tie I See A Wilde Civility.

You Say To Me-wards Your Affection's Strong; Pray Love Me Little, So You Love Me Long.