Ocean into tempest wrought, To waft a feather, or to drown a fly.
And friend received with thumps upon the back.
Souls made of fire, and children of the sun, With whom revenge is virtue.
The first sure symptom of a mind in health Is rest of heart and pleasure felt at home.
O let me be undone the common way, And have the common comfort to be pity'd, And not be ruin'd in the mask of bliss, And so be envy'd, and be wretched too!
But love, like wine, gives a tumultuous bliss, Heighten'd indeed beyond all mortal pleasures; But mingles pangs and madness in the bowl.