A poore beauty finds more lovers than husbands

Knowledge is folly unless grace guide it.

Let him be rich and weary, that at least, If goodness lead him not, yet weariness May toss him to my breast.

My meaning (dear Mother) is in these sonnets, to declare my resolution to be, that my poor abilities in poetry, shall be all and ever consecrated to God's glory.

It (my book) is a picture of the many spiritual conflicts that have passed between God and my soul, before I could subject mine to the will of Jesus, my Master, in whose service I have now found perfect freedom.

Hearken to Reason, or shee will bee heard.

To write a verse or two is all the praise That I can raise.