The Winds With Wonder Whist, Smoothly The

New Presbyter Is But Old Priest Writ Large.

The End Then Of Learning Is To Repair The Ruins Of Our First Parents By Regaining To Know God Aright, And Out Of That Knowledge To Love Him, To Imitate Him, To Be Like Him, As We May The Nearest By Possessing Our Souls Of True Virtue, Which Being United To The Heavenly Grace Of Faith Makes Up The Highest Perfection.

Fate Shall Yield To Fickle Chance, And Chaos Judge The Strife.

How Soon Hath Time, The Subtle Thief Of Youth, Stolen On His Wing My Three-and-twentieth Year!

The Liberty Of Conscience, Which Above All Other Things Ought To Be To All Men Dearest And Most Precious.