If it come to prohibiting, there is aught more likely to be prohibited than truth itself.

Live while ye may, Yet happy pair.

Our torments also may in length of time Become our elements, these piercing fires As soft as now severe, our temper changed Into their temper.

O loss of sight, of thee I most complain! Blind among enemies, O worse than chains, dungeon or beggary, or decrepit age! Light, the prime work of God, to me is extinct, and all her various objects of delight annulled, which might in part my grief have eased. Inferior to the vilest now become of man or worm; the vilest here excel me, they creep, yet see; I, dark in light, exposed to daily fraud, contempt, abuse and wrong, within doors, or without, still as a fool, in power of others, never in my own; scarce half I seem to live, dead more than half.

His rod revers'd, And backward mutters of dissevering power.

The earth, though in comparison of heaven so small, nor glistering, may of solid good contain more plenty than the sun, that barren shines.

Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil.