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1     I|      His hopes unstrung, his cares were fit to mow;~Eight hundred
2    II|    wretches is not one, that cares~For us, our laws, or our
3     V|     in his breast a thousand cares he tost,~Although his sorrows
4   VII|     where he hits he neither cares nor knows.~ ~ XCII~Among
5     X| weary, he began to steep~His cares and sorrows in oblivion'
6    XI|   they might their hearts of cares unload,~And rest their tired
7   XIX|  Cupid's flame?~No, no, such cares, and such respects beseem~
8   XIX|  hurt, or slain,~Of all your cares take care yourself to save,~