So mightiest powers buy deepest calms are fed, And sleep, how oft, in things that gentlest be!
Most writers steal a good thing when they can, and when 'Tis safely got 'Tis worth the winning. The worst of 't is we now and then detect em, they ever dream that we suspect em.
O human beauty, what a dream art thou, that we should cast our life and hopes away on thee!
Not the rich viol, trump, cymbal, nor horn, Guitar, nor cittern, nor the pining flute, Are half so sweet as tender human words.
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