Here lies our sovereign lord the king, Whose word no man relies on; He never says a foolish thing, Nor ever does a wise one. - John Wilmot, 2nd Earl of Rochester

Naked she lay, clasped in my longing arms, I filled with love, and she all over charms; Both equally inspired with eager fire, Melting through kindness, flaming in desire. With arms, legs, lips close clinging to embrace.

Great Negative, how vainly would the Wise Enquire, define, distinguish, teach, devise, Didst thou not stand to point their dull Philosophies?<p>Is, or is not, the Two great Ends of Fate, And, true or false, the Subject of Debate, That perfect, or destroy, the vast Designs of Fate.

But oh, how slowly minutes roll When absent from her eyes, That feed my love, which is my soul: It languishes and dies.