And yet on the other hand unless warinesse be us'd, as good almost kill a Man as kill a good Book; who kills a Man kills a reasonable creature, Gods Image, but hee who destroyes a good Booke, kills reason it selfe, kills the Image of God, as it were in the eye.

And, when night Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine.

Those graceful acts, those thousand decencies, that daily flow from all her words and actions, mixed with love and sweet compliance, which declare unfeigned union of mind, or in us both one soul.

Wealth and honours, which most men pursue, easily change masters; they desert to the side which excels in virtue, industry, and endurance of toil, and they abandon the slothful.

Or if Virtue feeble were, Heav'n itself would stoop to her.

Earth felt the wound; and Nature from her seat, Sighing through all her works, gave signs of woe That all was lost.

Death is the golden key that opens the palace of eternity.