Headstrong Liberty Is Lashed With Woe.

Woe, Destruction, Ruin, And Decay; The Worst Is Death And Death Will Have His Day.

Her Virtues, Graced With External Gifts, Do Breed Love's Settled Passions In My Heart; And Like As Rigour Of Tempestuous Gusts Provokes The Mightiest Hulk Against The Tide, So Am I Driven By Breath Of Her Renown Either To Suffer Shipwreck Or Arrive Where I May Have Fruition Of Her Love.

Many Strokes, Though With A Little Axe, Hew Down And Fell The Hardest-timber'd Oak.

I Doubt Not Then But Innocence Shall Makefalse Accusation Blush, And Tyrannytremble At Patience.

The Sense Of Death Is Most In Apprehension, And The Poor Beetle, That We Tread Upon, In Corporal Sufferance Finds A Pang As Great As When A Giant Dies.