Though The Desire Of Fame

Giants In Their Promises, But Those Obtained, Weak Pigmies In Their Performance.

He That Doth Public Good For Multitudes, Finds Few Are Truly Grateful

What Pity 'tis, One That Can Speak So Well, Should In His Actions Be So Ill!

Ambition, In A Private Man Is A Vice, Is In A Prince The Virtue.

Shall This Nectar Run Useless, Then, To Waste? Or ... These Lips, That Open Like The Morn, Breathing Perfumes, On Such As Dare Approach Them, Be Untouch'd? They Must--nay, 'tis In Vain To Make Resistance-- Be Often Kissed And Tasted.