Bacchus ever fair and young, Drinking joys did first ordain. Bachus's blessings are a treasure, Drinking is the soldier's pleasure, Rich the treasure, Sweet the pleasure- Sweet is pleasure after pain.

Thou tyrant, tyrant Jealousy, Thou tyrant of the mind!

There is a pleasure in being mad, which none but madmen know.

He look'd in years, yet in his years were seen A youthful vigor, and autumnal green.

Trust reposed in noble natures obliges them the more.

That gloomy outside, like a rusty chest, contains the shoring treasure of a soul resolved and brave.

We by art unteach what Nature taught.