We That Are True Lovers Run Into

Zounds! I Was Never So Bethumped With Words Since I First Called My Brother's Father Dad.

There Is An Old Poor Man,. . . . Oppress'd With Two Weak Evils, Age And Hunger.

Our Doubts Are Traitors And Make Us Lose The Good We Oft Might Win By Fearing To Attempt.

Discomfort Guides My Tongue And Bids Me Speak Of Nothing But Despair.

This Making Of Christians Will Raise The Price Of Hogs.