A Limbo Large And Broad, Since Call'd

Nor Jealousy Was Understood, The Injur'd Lover's Hell.

Fame Is The Last Infirmity Of The Human Mind.

His Rod Revers'd, And Backward Mutters Of Dissevering Power.

If Weakness May Excuse, What Murderer, What Traitor, Parricide, Incestuous, Sacrilegious, But May Plead It? All Wickedness Is Weakness; That Plea, Therefore, With God Or Man Will Gain Thee No Remission.

I Will Point Ye Out The Right Path Of A Virtuous And Noble Education; Laborious Indeed At First Ascent, But Else So Smooth, So Green, So Full Of Goodly Prospect, And Melodious Sounds On Every Side, That The Harp Of Orpheus Was Not More Charming.