When Beauty Fires The Blood, How Love

But Wild Ambition Loves To Slide, Not Stand, And Fortune's Ice Prefers To Virtue's Land.

Sweet Is Pleasure After Pain.

And After Hearing What Our Church Can Say, If Still Our Reason Runs Another Way, That Private Reason 'tis More Just To Curb, Than By Disputes The Public Peace Disturb; For Points Obscure Are Of Small Use To Learn, But Common Quiet Is Mankind's Concern.

Could Swell The Soul To Rage, Or Kindle Soft Desire.

Him Of The Western Dome, Whose Weighty Sense Flows In Fit Words And Heavenly Eloquence.