O Love! For Sylvia Let Me Gain

All Seems Infected That Th' Infected Spy, As All Looks Yellow To The Jaundiced Eye.

And Hence One Master-passion In The Breast, Like Aaron's Serpent, Swallows Up The Rest.

Ladies, Like Variegated Tulips, Show 'tis To Their Changes Half Their Charms We Owe.

The Worst Of Madmen Is A Saint Run Mad.

The Lights And Shades, Whose Well-accorded Strife Gives All The Strength And Color Of Our Life.