Revenge, at first though sweet, Bitter ere long back on itself recoils.

Now conscience wakes despair That slumber'd,-wakes the bitter memory Of what he was, what is, and what must be Worse.

These two imparadised in one another's arms, the happier Eden, shall enjoy their fill of bliss on bliss.

Just deeds are the best answer to injurious words.

And storied windows richly dight, Casting a dim religious light.

License they mean when they cry Liberty; For who loves that, must first be wise and good.

Meadows trim with daisies pied, Shallow brooks and rivers wide Towers and battlements it sees Bosom'd high in tufted trees, Where perhaps some beauty lies, The cynosure of neighboring eyes.