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Me longus silendi Edit amor, facilesque luctus Hausit medullas. Fugerit ocyus, Simul negantem visere jusseris Aures amicorum, et loquacem Questibus evacuaris iram. Olim querendo desinimus queri, Ipsoque fletu lacryma perditur Nec fortis aeque, si per omnes Cura volat residetque ramos. Vires amicis perdit in auribus, Minorque semper dividitur dolor, Per multa permissus vagari Pectora.
"Adeo sunt multa loquacem Delassare valent Fabium." And so you write to me, to supply you with some sketches from nature, instances of the "Wrongs of Woman." Ah me! Does not this earth teem with them the autumnal winds moan with them? The miseries want a good hurricane to sweep them off the land, and the dwellings the "foul fiend" hath contaminated.
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