What wisdom can there be to choose, what continence to forbear without the knowledge of evil? He that can apprehend and consider vice with all her baits and seeming pleasures, and yet abstain, and yet distinguish, and yet prefer that which is truly better, he is the true wayfaring Christian.

Such sights as youthful poets dream On summer eves by haunted stream. Then to the well-trod stage anon, If Jonson's learned sock be on, Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child, Warble his native wood-notes wild.

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

License they mean when they cry Liberty; For who loves that, must first be wise and good.

In naked beauty most adorned.

A bevy of fair women.

How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, stolen on his wing my three-and-twentieth year!