Virgin Me No Virgins! I Must Have

Revenge, That Thirsty Dropsy Of Our Souls, Makes Us Covet That Which Hurts Us Most.

Giants In Their Promises, But Those Obtained, Weak Pigmies In Their Performance.

Virgin Me No Virgins! I Must Have You Lose That Name, Or You Lose Me.

Malice Scorned, Puts Out Itself; But Argued, Give A Kind Of Credit To A False Accusation.

Before We End Our Pilgrimage, 'tis Fit That We Should Leave Corruption, And Foul Sin, Behind Us, But With Wash'd Feet And Hands, The Heathens Dar' Not Enter Their Profane Temples; And For Me To Hope My Passage To Eternity Can Be Made Easy, Till I Have Shook Off The Burthen Of My Sins In Free Confession, Aided With Sorrow, And Repentance For Them, Is Against Reason.