By How Much Unexpected, By So Much

Here Feel We But The Penalty Of Adam, The Seasons' Difference, As The Icy Fang And Churlish Chiding Of The Winter's Wind, Which, When It Bites And Blows Upon My Body, Even Till I Shrink With Cold, I Smile.

They Told Me I Was Everything. 'tis A Lie, I Am Not Ague-proof.

Who Seeks, And Will Not Take, When Once 'tis Offer'd, Shall Never Find It More.

All Impediments In Fancy's Course Are Motives Of More Fancy.

Good Reasons Must Of Force Give Place To Better.