Nature, methinks, should guide in this,
Who seems t’have shewn the highest bliss,
In having plac’d the sweetest gust,
In gratifying natural lust.
And that ’tis the sublimest joy,
I think ’s so plain none can deny.
Witness the mad tormenting pain,
When disappointed, we sustain.
Witness how eagerly we press on,
Witness our raptures in possession.”