Ground of each plot upon the tragic stage?
Quick to perceive, and headlong to resent,
Thy kindled anger never can relent.
So mild in love, so terrible in hate,
The soothing balm, and tri-thonged scourge of Fate;
Thou sure wert born to trouble and perplex,
Involve and puzzle the diviner sex!
Have we a secret? Keep it, as we may,
Full soon it passes from our grasp away.
Has any thing occurred? “Who, which, what now?