Wish Chastely, And Love Dearly.

Words Are Grown So False, I Am Loath To Prove Reason With Them.

'twas Merry When You Wagered On Your Angling, When Your Diver Did Hang A Salt Fish On His Hook, Which He With Fervency Drew Up.

There Is Thy Gold, Worse Poison To Men's Souls, Doing More Murder In This Loathsome World, Than These Poor Compounds That Thou Mayst Not Sell.

Do Not Banish Reason For Inequality; But Let Your Reason Serve To Make The Truth Appear Where It Seems Hid, And Hide The False Seems True.

A King Of Infinite Space