Works

God's pity on poor kings,
They know no gentle rest;
The North and South cry out,
Cries come from East and West,
"Come, open this new Dock,
Building, Bazaar or Fair."
Lord, what a wretched life...

It was the Rainbow gave thee birth,
And left thee all her lovely hues;
And, as her mother's name was Tears,
So runs it in thy blood to choose
For haunts the lonely pools, and keep...

I do not know his grace the Duke,
Outside whose gilded gate there died
Of want a feeble, poor old man,
With but his shadow at his side.

I do not know his Lady fair,
Who in a bath of milk doth lie;...