More Safe I Sing With Mortal Voice,

Demoniac Frenzy, Moping Melancholy.

For Liberty Hath A Sharp And Double Edge, Fit Only To Be Handled By Just And Virtuous Men; To Bad And Dissolute, It Becomes A Mischief Unwieldy In Their Own Hands.

It Is Chastity, My Brother. She That Has That Is Clad In Complete Steel.

So Dear To Heaven Is Saintly Chastity, That, When A Soul Is Found Sincerely So, A Thousand Liveried Angels Lacky Her, Driving Far Off Each Thing Of Sin And Guilt.

Believe And Be Confirmed.