Beauty Is The Lover's Gift.

Love's But The Frailty Of The Mind, When 'tis Not With Ambition Joined; A Sickly Flame, Which If Not Fed Expires; And Feeding, Wastes In Self-consuming Fires.

Women Like Flames Have A Destroying Power; Never To Be Quenched Till They Themselves Devour.

Come, Come, Leave Business To Idlers, And Wisdom To Fools: They Have Need Of 'em: Wit Be My Faculty, And Pleasure My Occupation, And Let Father Time Shake His Glass.

Musick Has Charms To Sooth A Savage Breast...

Beauty Is The Lover's Gift.