Sable-vested Night, Eldest Of Things.

Me Miserable! Which Way Shall I Fly Infinite Wrath And Infinite Despair? Which Way I Fly Is Hell; Myself Am Hell; And In The Lowest Deep A Lower Deep, Still Threat'ning To Devour Me, Opens Wide, To Which The Hell I Suffer Seems A Heaven.

And Storied Windows Richly Dight, Casting A Dim Religious Light. There Let The Pealing Organ Blow, To The Full-voiced Choir Below, In Service High, And Anthems Clear As May, With Sweetness, Through Mine Ear Dissolve Me Into Ecstasies, And Bring All Heaven Before Mine Eyes.

It Is For Homely Features To Keep Home,- They Had Their Name Thence; Coarse Complexions And Cheeks Of Sorry Grain Will Serve To Ply The Sampler And To Tease The Huswife's Wool. What Need A Vermeil-tinctur'd Lip For That, Love-darting Eyes, Or Tresses Like The Morn?

Next, To Make Them Expert In The Usefullest Points Of Grammar; And Withal To Season Them And Win Them Early To The Love Of Virtue And True Labour, Ere Any Flattering Seducement Or Vain Principle Seize Them Wandering, Some Easy And Delightful Book Of Education Would Be Read To Them; Whereof The Greeks Have Store, As Cebes, Plutarch, And Other Socratic Discourses.

Our Reason Is Our Law.