Affection, Mistress Of Passion, Sways It To

If I Profane With My Unworthiest Hand This Holy Shrine, The Gentle Fine Is This: My Lips, Two Blushing Pilgrims, Ready Stand To Smooth That Rough Touch With A Tender Kiss.

Tis Often Seen Adoption Strives With Nature; And Choice Breeds A Native Slip To Us From Foreign Lands.

If Men Could Be Contented To Be What They Are, There Were No Fear In Marriage.

Oh, I Am Fortune's Fool!

Many Dream Not To Find, Neither Deserve, And Yet Are Steeped In Favors.