Love's But A Frailty Of The Mind,

Who Pleases One Against His Will.

Beauty Is The Lover's Gift.

There Are Come Critics So With Spleen Diseased, They Scarcely Come Inclining To Be Pleased: And Sure He Must Have More Than Mortal Skill, Who Please One Against His Will.

No, I'm No Enemy To Learning; It Hurts Not Me.

If Happiness In Self-content Is Placed, The Wise Are Wretched, And Fools Only Blessed.