Hear all ye angels, progeny of light, Thrones, dominations, princedoms, virtues, powers.

Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise. That last infirmity of noble mind. To scorn delights, and live laborious days.

Gratitude bestows reverence, allowing us to encounter everyday epiphanies.

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

Till old experience do attain To something like prophetic strain.

I fled, and cry'd out, Death; Hell trembled at the hideous name, and sigh'd From all her caves, and back resounded, Death.

To adore the conqueror, who now beholds Cherub and seraph rolling in the flood.