Beyond the fix’d and settl’d Rule… Of Vice and Virtue in the School… Beyond the Letter of the Law, Which keeps our Men and Maids in… The better Sort should set before…

As Nancy at her toilette sat, Admiring this, and blaming that, Tell me, she said, but tell me tru… The nymph who could your heart sub… What sort of charms does she posse…

Sly Merry Andrew, the last South… (At Bartholomew he did not much a… So peevish was the dict of the Ma… At Southwark, therefore, as his t… To please our masters, and his fri…

Tway Mice, full Blythe and Amica… Batten beside Erle Robert’s Tabl… Lies there ne Trap their Necks to… Ne old black Cat their Steps to w… Their Fill they eat of Fowl and…

Since, Moggy, I mun bid adieu, How can I help despairing? Let cruel Fate us still pursue, There’s nought more worth my carin… ’Twas she alone could calm my soul

Reader, I was born, and cried; I crack’d, I smelt, and so I died… Like Julius Caesar’s was my death… Who in the senate lost his breath. Much alike entomb’d does lie

Is it, O love, thy want of eyes, Or by the Fates decreed, That hearts so seldom sympathise, Or for each other bleed? If thou wouldst make two youthful…

Tune - 'Lady Isabella’s Tragedy.… Of Nero, tyrant, petty king, Who heretofore did reign In famed Hibernia, I will sing, And in a ditty plain.

Wiessen and nature held a long con… If she created or he painted best; With pleasing thought the wondrous… She still form’d fairer, he still… In these seven brethren they conte…

Haste, my Nannette, My lovely maid, Haste to the bower Thy swain has made. For thee alone

Thy nags, the leanest things alive… So very hard thou lovest to drive, I heard thy anxious coachman say It costs thee more in whips than h…

Phillis, since we have both been k… And of each other had our fill, Tell me what pleasure you can find In forcing Nature 'gainst her wil… ’Tis true, you may, with art and p…

WHAT nymph should I admire or tr… But Chloe beauteous, Chloe just? What nymph should I desire to see… But her who leaves the plain for m… To whom should I compose the lay,

Nobles and Heralds, by your leave… Here lies what once was Matthew P… The son of Adam and of Eve; Can Stuart or Nassau claim higher…

From publick Noise and factious S… From all the busie Ills of Life, Take me, My Celia, to Thy Breast… And lull my wearied Soul to Rest: For ever, in this humble Cell,