You Take My Life When

Under The Colour Of Commending Him I Have Access My Own Love To Prefer; But Silvia Is Too Fair, Too True, Too Holy, To Be Corrupted With My Worthless Gifts.

If Thou Couldst, Doctor, Cast The Water Of My Land, Find Her Disease, And Purge It To A Sound And Pristine Health, I Would Applaud Thee To The Very Echo, That Should Applaud You Again.

Cold Indeed, And Labor Lost: Then Farewell Heat, And Welcome Frost!

Is It Possible That Love Should Of A Sudden Take Such A Hold?

Your Wisdom Is Consum'd In Confidence. Do Not Go Forth To-day.