Sure There's Contagion In The Tears Of

With How Much Ease Believe We What We Wish!

What I Have Left Is From My Native Spring; I've Still A Heart That Swells, In Scorn Of Fate, And Lifts Me To My Banks.

The Love Of Liberty With Life Is Given, And Life Itself The Inferior Gift Of Heaven.

Let Grace And Goodness Be The Principal Loadstone Of Thy Affections.

Revenge, Revenge, Timotheus Cries, See The Furies Arise!