You May Make Love In Dancing As

That Perfect Tranquillity Of Life, Which Is Nowhere To Be Found But In Retreat, A Faithful Friend And A Good Library.

'twas But A Dream, Yet By My Heart I Knew, Which Still Was Panting, Part Of It Was True: Oh How I Strove The Rest To Have Believed; Ashamed And Angry To Be Undeceived!

All I Ask, Is The Privilege For My Masculine Part The Poet In Me.... If I Must Not, Because Of My Sex, Have This Freedom... I Lay Down My Quill And You Shall Hear No More Of Me.

Affectation Hath Always Had A Greater Share Both In The Action And Discourse Of Men Than Truth And Judgment Have.

Come Away; Poverty's Catching.