Of Law there can be no less acknowledged than that her seat is the bosom of God, her voice the harmony of the world. All things in heaven and earth do her homage,the very least as feeling her care, and the greatest as not exempted from her power.
Cupid and my Campaspe playd At cards for kisses: Cupid paid. He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows, His mothers doves, and team of sparrows: Loses them too. Then down he throws The coral of his lip, the rose Growing on s cheek (but none knows how); With these, the crystal of his brow, And then the dimple on his chin: All these did my Campaspe win. At last he set her both his eyes: She won, and Cupid blind did rise. O Love! has she done this to thee? What shall, alas! become of me?