Things Evidently False Are Not Only Printed,

To Call Ourselves A Microcosme, Or Little World, I Thought It Onely A Pleasant Trope Of Rhetorick, Till My Neare Judgement And Second Thoughts Told Me There Was A Reall Truth Therein: For First Wee Are A Rude Masse, And In The Ranke Of Creatures, Which Only Are, And Have A Dull Kinde Of Being Not Yet Priviledged With Life, Or Preferred To Sense Or Reason; Next We Live The Life Of Plants, The Life Of Animals, The Life Of Men, And At Last The Life Of Spirits, Running On In One Mysterious Nature Those Five Kinds Of Existence, Which Comprehend The Creatures Not Onely Of World, But Of The Universe.

Tis Hard To Find A Whole Age To Imitate, Or What Century To Propose For Example.

There Are Wonders In True Affection. It Is A Body Of Enigmas, Mysteries, And Riddles, Wherein Two So Become One, As They Both Become Two.

That Miracles Have Been, I Do Believe; That They May Yet Be Wrought By The Living, I Do Not Deny: But Have No Confidence In Those Which Are Fathered On The Dead.

How Shall We Expect Charity Towards Others, When We Are Uncharitable To Ourselves?