You see through love, and that deludes your sight, As what is straight seems crooked through the water.

Better to hunt in fields, for health unbought, Than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught, The wise, for cure, on exercise depend; God never made his work for man to mend.

What, start at this! when sixty years have spread. Their grey experience o'er thy hoary head? Is this the all observing age could gain? Or hast thou known the world so long in vain?

Three poets, in three distant ages born, Greece, Italy, and England did adorn. The first in loftiness of thought surpass'd; The next, in majesty; in both the last. The force of Nature could no further go; To make a third, she join'd the former two.

Old as I am, for ladies' love unfit, The power of beauty I remember yet.

My love's a noble madness.

Great wits are sure to madness near allied, and thin partitions do their bounds divide.