Athens, the eye of Greece, mother of arts And eloquence.
Which way I fly is Hell; myself am Hell.
Lethe, the river of oblivion, rolls his watery labyrinth, which whoso drinks forgets both joy and grief.
Hear all ye angels, progeny of light, Thrones, dominations, princedoms, virtues, powers.
Taste this, and be henceforth among the Gods thyself a Goddess.
That virtue therefore which is but a youngling in the contemplation of evil, and knows not the utmost that vice promises to her followers, and rejects it, is but a blank virtue, not a pure; her whiteness is but an excremental whiteness.