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.

Ask for this great deliverer now, and find him Eyeless in Gaza at the mill with slaves.

Hell has no benefits, only torture.

Here the great art lies, to discern in what the law is to be to restraint and punishment, and in what things persuasion only is to work.

The world was all before them, where to choose Their place of rest, and Providence their guide: They hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow, Through Eden took their solitary way.

Laws can discover sin, but not remove it

The liberty of conscience, which above all other things ought to be to all men dearest and most precious.