I Will Make A Star-chamber Matter Of

I Have Thought Some Of Nature's Journeymen Had Made Men And Not Made Them Well, They Imitated Humanity So Abominably.

Would It Not Grieve A Woman To Be Over-mastered By A Piece Of Valiant Dust? To Make An Account Of Her Life To A Clod Of Wayward Marle?

And Flights Of Angels Sing Thee To Thy Rest!

There Is Nothing Either Good Or Bad But Thinking Makes It So.

God Shall Be My Hope, My Stay, My Guide And Lantern To My Feet.