Thomas Yalden

"Why like a tender girl dost thou complain! That strives to reach the mother's breast in vain; Mourns by her side, her knees embraces fast, Hangs on her robes, and interrupts her haste; Yet, when with fondness to her arms she's rais'd, Still mourns and weeps, and will not be appeas'd!"

"For malice will with joy the lie receive, Report, and what it wishes true, believe."