Truth is as impossible to be soiled by any outward touch as the sunbeam.
Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child!
Such as the meeting soul may pierce, In notes with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out.
A good principle not rightly understood may prove as hurtful as a bad.
Part of my soul I seek thee, and claim thee my other half
Wisdom's self oft seeks to sweet retired solitude, where with her best nurse Contemplation, she plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings that in the various bustle of resort were all to-ruffled, and sometimes impaired.