Ah, How Sweet It Is To Love!

If By The People You Understand The Multitude, The Hoi Polloi, 'tis No Matter What They Think; They Are Sometimes In The Right, Sometimes In The Wrong; Their Judgment Is A Mere Lottery.

Long Pains, With Use Of Bearing, Are Half Eased.

Fool, Not To Know That Love Endures No Tie, And Jove But Laughs At Lovers' Perjury.

Ill Habits Gather Unseen Degrees, As Brooks Make Rivers, Rivers Run To Seas.

Let Fortune Empty Her Whole Quiver On Me, I Have A Soul That, Like An Ample Shield, Can Take In All, And Verge Enough For More; Fate Was Not Mine, Nor Am I Fate's: Souls Know No Conquerors.