Wrong Hath But Wrong, And Blame The

Are You Up To Your Destiny?

Why, Who Cries Out On Pride That Can Therein Tax Any Private Party? Doth It Not Flow As Hugely As The Sea Till The Weary Very Means Do Ebb?

Taste Your Legs, Sire: Put Them Into Motion.

I Do Not Know What Kind Of My Obedience I Should Tender. More Than My All Is Nothing; Nor My Prayers Are Not Words Holy Hallowed, Nor My Wishes More Worth Than Empty Vanities; Yet Prayers And Wishes Are All I Can Return.

Thus May Poor Fools Belive False Teachers.