The aspiring youth that fired the Ephesian domeOutlives in fame the pious fool that rais'd it. Richard III (altered) (1700)
And the ripe harvest of the new-mown hayGives it a sweet and wholesome odour. Richard III (altered) (1700)
So mourn'd the dame of Ephesus her love,And thus the soldier arm'd with resolutionTold his soft tale, and was a thriving wooer. Richard III (altered) (1700)
I 've lately had two spidersCrawling upon my startled hopes.Now though thy friendly hand has brush'd 'em from me,Yet still they crawl offensive to my eyes:I would have some kind friend to tread upon 'em. Richard III (altered) (1700)