I Never Knew Any Man In My

Virtue May Choose The High Or Low Degree, 'tis Just Alike To Virtue, And To Me; Dwell In A Monk, Or Light Upon A King, She's Still The Same Belov'd, Contented Thing.

Like Following Life Through Creatures You Dissect, You Lose It In The Moment You Detect.

What Reason Weaves, By Passion Is Undone.

True Wit Is Nature To Advantage Dress'd What Oft Was Thought, But Ne'er So Well Express'd; Something Whose Truth Convinced At Sight We Find, That Gives Us Back The Image Of Our Mind. As Shades More Sweetly Recommend The Light, So Modest Plainness Sets Off Sprightly Wit.

The Season When To Come, And When To Go, To Sing, Or Cease To Sing, We Never Know.