Pleasure Never Comes Sincere To Man; But

Ill Writers Are Usually The Sharpest Censors.

You See Through Love, And That Deludes Your Sight, As What Is Straight Seems Crooked Through The Water.

As When The Dove Returning Bore The Mark Of Earth Restored To The Long Labouring Ark; The Relics Of Mankind, Secure At Rest, Oped Every Window To Receive The Guest, And The Fair Bearer Of The Message Bless'd.

Let Cheerfulness On Happy Fortune Wait.

Honor Is But An Empty Bubble.