Go, lovely rose, Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be.

So must the writer, whose productions should Take with the vulgar, be of vulgar mould.

Stronger by weakness, wiser men become.

What use of oaths, of promise, or of test, where men regard no God but interest?

For all we know Of what the blessed do above Is, that they sing, and that they love. While I listen to thy Voice.

With wisdom fraught; not such as books, but such as practice taught.

Gods, that never change their state, vary oft their love and hate.