Revere thyself, and yet thyself despise

A Deity believed, is joy begun; A Deity adored, is joy advanced; A Deity beloved, is joy matured. Each branch of piety delight inspires.

But love, like wine, gives a tumultuous bliss, Heighten'd indeed beyond all mortal pleasures; But mingles pangs and madness in the bowl.

To know the world, not love her, is thy point; She gives but little, nor that little, long.

An undevout astronomer is mad.

Oh, how portentous is prosperity! How comet-like, it threatens while it shines.

We cry for mercy to the next amusement, The next amusement mortgages our fields