Things that are not at all, are never lost.
Religion hides many mischiefs from suspicion.
Come live with me and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove, That valleys, groves, hills, and fields, Woods, or steepy mountain yields.
That perfect bliss and sole felicity, the sweet fruition of an earthly crown.
Strike up the drum and march courageously.
I count religion but a childish toy, and hold there is no sin but ignorance.