If Men Are Wont To Play With

Mr Newton, A Fellow Of Our College, And Very Young, Being But The Second Year Master Of Arts; But Of An Extraordinary Genius And Proficiency.

We May Be As Good As We Please, If We Please To Be Good.

Shall We Keep Our Hands In Our Bosom, Or Stretch Ourselves On Our Beds Of Laziness, While All The World About Us Is Hard At Work, In Pursuing The Designs Of Its Creation?

No Adversity Is In Kind Or Degree Peculiar To Us; But If We Survey The Conditions Of Other Men (of Our Brethren Everywhere, Of Our Neighbours All About Us), And Compare Our Case With Theirs, We Shall Find That We Have Many Consorts And Associates In Adversity, Most As Ill, Many Far Worse Bestead Than Ourselves; Whence It Must Be A Great Fondness And Perverseness To Be Displeased That We Are Not Exempted From, But Exposed To Bear A Share In The Common Troubles And Burdens Of Mankind.

It Consisteth In One Knows Not What, And Springeth Up One Can Hardly Tell How. Its Ways Are Unaccountable And Inexplicable, Being Answerable To The Numberless Rovings Of Fancy And Windings Of Language.