Demoniac frenzy, moping melancholy.

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.

Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony.

What better can we do than prostrate fall before Him reverent, and there confess humbly our faults, and pardon beg with tears watering the ground?

Hell has no benefits, only torture.

Such bickerings to recount, met often in these our writers, what more worth is it than to chronicle the wars of kites or crows flocking and fighting in the air?

Who overcomes by force, hath overcome but half his foe.