Fate Shall Yield To Fickle

In Argument With Men A Woman Ever Goes By The Worse, Whatever Be Her Cause.

How Charming Is Divine Philosophy! Not Harsh And Crabbed, As Dull Fools Suppose, But Musical As Is Apollo's Lute, And A Perpetual Feast Of Nectar'd Sweets Where No Crude Surfeit Reigns

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.

To Adore The Conqueror, Who Now Beholds Cherub And Seraph Rolling In The Flood.

Rocks Whereon Greatest Men Have Oftest Wreck'd.