O Freedom, First Delight Of Human Kind!

Treason Is Greatest Where Trust Is Greatest.

Moderate Sorrow Fits Vulgar Love, And For A Vulgar Man: But I Have Lov'd With Such Transcendent Passion, I Soar'd, At First, Quite Out Of Reason's View, And Now Am Lost Above It.

Love Reckons Hours For Months, And Days For Years; And Every Little Absence Is An Age.

None, None Descends Into Himself, To Find The Secret Imperfections Of His Mind: But Every One Is Eagle-ey'd To See Another's Faults, And His Deformity.

And Love's The Noblest Frailty Of The Mind.