Light Sufferings Give Us Leisure To Complain.

Is It Not Evident, In These Last Hundred Years (when The Study Of Philosophy Has Been The Business Of All The Virtuosi In Christendome) That Almost A New Nature Has Been Revealed To Us? That More Errours Of The School Have Been Detected, More Useful Experiments In Philosophy Have Been Made, More Noble Secrets In Opticks, Medicine, Anatomy, Astronomy, Discover'd, Than In All Those Credulous And Doting Ages From Aristotle To Us? So True It Is That Nothing Spreads More Fast Than Science, When Rightly And Generally Cultivated.

He Look'd In Years, Yet In His Years Were Seen A Youthful Vigor, And Autumnal Green.

Secret Guilt By Silence Is Betrayed.

Farewell, Too Little, And Too Lately Known, Whom I Began To Think And Call My Own.

Dreams Are But Interludes That Fancy Makes... Sometimes Forgotten Things, Long Cast Behind Rush Forward In The Brain, And Come To Mind.