"Oh! lads, beware the month of May;--for you blest girls--nature decked out--as in a birth-day suit--courts you with all its sweets--where-e'er you tread--the grass and wanton flowerets fondly kiss your feet--and humbly bow their pretty heads--to the gentle sweepings of your under-petticoats--the soft and amorous southern breezes--toy with your curls--and uncontroul'd steal numberless kisses--the blackbirds and thrushes suspend their songs--and eye beauty and humanity with pleasure;--and could their hearts be read--thank most sincerely the generous fair hands that fed them in the winter;--the cuckoo sings--on every tree--the joys of married life--the shrubery throws out all its sweets to charm you--tho', alas! an unlucky parciplepliviaplemontis seizes my imagination--my brains are on the ferment."
— Sancho, Charles Ignatius (1729-1780)
(I.lxi, pp. 187-9; pp. 117-8 in Carretta)
See Letters of the Late Ignatius Sancho, An African. In Two Volumes. To Which Are Prefixed, Memoirs of His Life (London: Printed by J. Nichols, 1782). <Link to text from Documenting the American South at UNC>
Reading Letters of the Late Ignatius Sancho, ed. Vincent Carretta (New York: Penguin, 1998).