A dungeon horrible, on all sides round, As one great furnace, flamed; yet from those flames No light, but rather darkness visible Serv'd only to discover sights of woe, Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace And rest can never dwell, hope never comes That comes to all; but torture without end.

He who freely magnifies what hath been nobly done, and fears not to declares as freely what might be done better, gives ye the best covenant of his fidelity.

The Tree of Knowledge grew fast by, Knowledge of Good bought dear by knowing ill.

Sport, that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides. Come and trip it as ye go, On the light fantastic toe.

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

All seemed well pleased, all seemed, but were not all.

Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise