This Goodly Frame, The Earth, Seems To

I Am Sure, Though You Can Guess What Temperance Should Be, You Know Not What It Is.

A Rotten Case Abides No Handling.

O Wretched State! O Bosom Black As Death!

What Power Is It Which Mounts My Love So High, That Makes Me See, And Cannot Feed Mine Eye

I Am A Jew: Hath Not A Jew Eyes? Hath Not A Jew Hands, Organs, Dimensions, Senses, Affections, Passions? Fed With Die Same Food, Hurt With The Same Weapons, Subject To The Same Diseases, Healed By The Same Means, Warmed And Cooled By The Same Winter And Summer, As A Christian Is?