Hung Over Her Enamour'd, And Beheld Beauty,

So Shall The World Go On, To Good Malignant, To Bad Men Benign, Under Her Own Weight Groaning.

Hell Has No Benefits, Only Torture.

That Virtue Therefore Which Is But A Youngling In The Contemplation Of Evil, And Knows Not The Utmost That Vice Promises To Her Followers, And Rejects It, Is But A Blank Virtue, Not A Pure; Her Whiteness Is But An Excremental Whiteness.

For What Can War, But Endless War, Still Breed?

These Are Thy Glorious Works, Parent Of Good!