| Our Wits are Unable to Please Our Wils |
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| To My Deere Friend and Country-Man Mr Simon Hill |
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| Invocation of the Water-Nymph Thames, to Well-Intreat the Land-Nimph Being in her Power, An |
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| That Mortall Life is a Mortall Plague |
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| To My Most Deare, and No Lesse Worthily-Beloved Friend and Pupill, Henry Mainwarring Esquier |
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| To the Truly Noble Lord, Deservedly Al-Be-Loved, the Lord north |
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| The Flea |
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| Too Much Honie Breakes the Belly |
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| Rob Not the Poore, Because He Is Poore; Neyther Wrong Him in Judgement |
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| To the Most Compleat Gentleman John Luson Esquire |
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