Fain would I kiss my Julia's dainty leg, Which is as white and hairless as an egg.

Outdid the meat, outdid the frolic wine.

So when or you or I are made A fable, song, or fleeting shade; All love, all liking, all delight Lies drowned with us in endless night. Then while time serves, and we are but decaying; Come, my Corinna, come, let's go a Maying.

But ne'er the rose without the thorn.

In prayer the lips ne'er act the winning part, Without the sweet concurrence of the heart.

In things a moderation keep; Kings ought to shear, not skin, their sheep.

Here a pretty Baby lies Sung asleep with Lullabies: Pray be silent, and not stirre The easie earth that covers her.