Many Punishments Sometimes, And In Some Cases,

Come, My Celia, Let Us Prove, While We Can, The Sports Of Love, Time Will Not Be Ours For Ever, He, At Length, Our Good Will Sever; Spend Not Then His Gifts In Vain: Suns That Set May Rise Again; But If Once We Lose This Light, 'tis With Us Perpetual Night. Why Should We Defer Our Joys? Fame And Rumour Are But Toys.

I Perceive Affection Makes A Fool Of Any Man Too Much The Father.

I Now Think, Love Is Rather Deaf, Than Blind, For Else It Could Not Be, That She, Whom I Adore So Much, Should So Slight Me, And Cast My Love Behind.

It Holds For Good Polity Ever, To Have That Outwardly In Vilest Estimation, Which Inwardly Is Most Dear To Us.

Memory, Of All The Powers Of The Mind, Is The Most Delicate And Frail.