Your Hearts Are Mighty, Your Skins Are

Tis Not The Many Oaths That Make The Truth; But The Plain Single Vow, That Is Vow'd True.

If You Prick Us Do We Not Bleed? If You Tickle Us Do We Not Laugh? If You Poison Us Do We Not Die? And If You Wrong Us Shall We Not Revenge?

If I Could Write The Beauty Of Your Eyes And In Fresh Numbers Number All Your Graces, The Age To Come Would Say, 'this Poet Lies; Such Heavenly Touches Ne'er Touch'd Earthly Faces.'

Appetite, A Universal Wolf.

Under The Colour Of Commending Him I Have Access My Own Love To Prefer; But Silvia Is Too Fair, Too True, Too Holy, To Be Corrupted With My Worthless Gifts.