The conquer'd, also, and enslaved by war, Shall, with their freedom lost, all virtue lose.

That power Which erring men call Chance.

Let none henceforth seek needless cause to approve The faith they owe; when earnestly they seek Such proof, conclude, they then begin to fail.

First Moloch, horrid king, besmirched in blood, Of Human sacrifice, and parent's tears, Though, for the noise of drums and timbrels loud, Their childrens' cries unheard, that passed through fire, To his grim idol.

None But such as are good men can give good things, And that which is not good, is not delicious To a well-govern'd and wise appetite.

Taste this, and be henceforth among the Gods thyself a Goddess.

Virtue could see to do what Virtue would by her own radiant light, though sun and moon where in the flat sea sunk.