"A Wretched Soul,
Bruised with Adversity,
We Bid Quiet When We Hear it Cry.
But Were We Burdened With Weight of Pain,
Far from lonely, As Much or More,
We Shall Ourselves Complain..
And Thus I Clothed My Naked Villiany,
With Old Odd Ends, Stol'n Forth of Holy Wit,
To be Seen a Saint When Most I Play The Devil."