For though in his Nature there is a Tendency to Rational Pleasures, yet this he may, and very frequently does, stifle and extinguish by addicting himself wholly to the Delights and Gratifications of his Sense

The autumn winds rushing / Waft the leaves that are searest, / But our flower was in flushing, / When blighting was nearest.

The Cossacks chattered and screamed, like a cageful of parrots stirred up by some mischievous boy […]

These hypotheticals serve no purpose until we have more information.