Love.

Love, like Original Sin, in all does dwell,
 Fools sighs in private, and the Witty tell;
 Boast they'r fond Passions in repeated Rhymes,
 That other Reigning Mischief of the Times:
 The Learn'd asham'd to own their Amorous Pain,
 Vent the warm Raptures in a Pious strain,
 Sigh, Languish, Die, (tho' for a Mortal fair,)
 In Lays Divine, like Quarles and Arwaker.