Since To Obtain Thee Nothing Me Will Stead, I Have A Med'Cine That Shall Cure My Love. The Powder Of Her Heart Dried, When SHe's Dead, That Gold Nor Honour Ne'er Had Power To Move; Mixed With Her Tears That Ne'er Her True Love Crost, Nor At Fifteen Ne'er Longed To Be A Bride; Boiled With Her Sighs, In Giving Up The Ghost, That For Her Late Deceas'D Husband Died; Into The Same Then Let A Woman Breathe, That Being Chid Did Never Word Reply; With One Thrice Married'S Prayers, That Did Bequeath A Legacy To Stale Virginity. If This Receipt Have Not The Power To Win Me, Little I'll Say, But Think The Devil'S In Me!