Mankind Is Ever The Same,

Even Kings But Play; And When Their Part Is Done, Some Other, Worse Or Better, Mounts The Throne.

There Is An Inimitable Grace In Virgil's Words, And In Them Principally Consists That Beauty Which Gives So Inexpressible A Pleasure To Him Who Best Understands Their Force. This Diction Of His, I Must Once Again Say, Is Never To Be Copied; And Since It Cannot, He Will Appear But Lame In The Best Translation.

Light Sufferings Give Us Leisure To Complain.

Let Grace And Goodness Be The Principal Loadstone Of Thy Affections. For Love Which Hath Ends, Will Have An End; Whereas That Which Is Founded On True Virtue, Will Always Continue.

The Soft Complaining Flute, In Dying Notes, Discovers The Woes Of Hopeless Lovers.