I Am Not Only Witty In Myself,

But If The While I Think On Thee, Dear Friend, All Losses Are Restored And Sorrows End.

A Sympathy In Choice.

The Gods Are Deaf To Hot And Peevish Vows. They Are Polluted Off'rings, More Abhorred! Than Spotted Livers In The Sacrifice.

For Many Men That Stumble At The Threshold Are Well Foretold That Danger Lurks Within.

Thou Art All The Comfort, The Gods Will Diet Me With.