Modest Wisdom Plucks Me From Over-credulous Haste.

But Now Behold, In The Quick Forge And Working-house Of Thought, How London Doth Pour Out Her Citizens!

For Thou Hast Given Me In This Beauteous Face A World Of Earthly Blessings To My Soul, If Sympathy Of Love Unite Our Thoughts.

That Which Is Now A Horse, Even With A Thought The Rack Dislimms, And Makes It Indistinct As Water Is In Water

And Oft, My Jealousy Shapes Faults That Are Not.

We Will Meet; And There We May Rehearse Most Obscenely And Courageously.