I will not deny but that the best apology against false accusers is silence and sufferance, and honest deeds set against dishonest words.

A thousand fantasies Begin to throng into my memory, Of calling shapes, and beckoning shadows dire, And airy tongues that syllable men's names On sands and shores and desert wildernesses

He that hath light within their own breast, may sit in the centre and enjoy bright day.

Thou canst not touch the freedom of my mind.

His spear, to equal which the tallest pine Hewn on Norwegian hills to be the mast Of some great ammiral were but a wand, He walk'd with to support uneasy steps Over the burning marle.

Still paying, still to owe. Eternal woe!

Beholding the bright countenance of truth in the quiet and still air of delightful studies.