Come Knit Hands, And Beat The Ground

Then Might Ye See Cowls, Hoods, And Habits With Their Wearers Tost And Flutter'd Into Rags; Then Reliques, Beads, Indulgences, Dispenses, Pardons, Bulls, The Sport Of Winds; All These Upwhirl'd Aloft Fly To The Rearward Of The World Far Off Into A Limbo Large And Broad, Since Called The Paradise Of Fools.

Fame, If Not Double Fac'd, Is Double Mouth'd, And With Contrary Blast Proclaims Most Deeds; On Both His Wings, One Black, The Other White, Bears Greatest Names In His Wild Aery Flight.

Moping Melancholy And Moon-struck Madness.

There Is No Christian Duty That Is Not To Be Seasoned And Set Off With Cheerishness, Which In A Thousand Outward And Intermitting Crosses May Yet Be Done Well, As In This Vale Of Tears.

There Is No Learned Man But Will Confess Be Hath Much Profited By Reading Controversies,--his Senses Awakened, His Judgment Sharpened, And The Truth Which He Holds Firmly Established. If Then It Be Profitable For Him To Read, Why Should It Not At Least Be Tolerable And Free For His Adversary To Write? In Logic They Teach That Contraries Laid Together, More Evidently Appear; It Follows Then, That All Controversy Being Permitted, Falsehood Will Appear More False, And Truth The More True; Which Must Needs Conduce Much To The General Confirmation Of An Implicit Truth.