Eve Left Adam, To Meet The Devil

Good Sense, Which Only Is The Gift Of Heaven, And Though No Science, Fairly Worth The Seven.

Who Builds A Church To God And Not To Fame, Will Never Mark The Marble With His Name.

Taste, That Eternal Wanderer, Which Flies From Head To Ears, And Now From Ears To Eyes.

And Seem To Walk On Wings, And Tread In Air.

As The Twig Is Bent, So Grows The Tree.