Where eldest Night And Chaos, ancestors of Nature, hold Eternal anarchy amidst the noise Of endless wars, and by confusion stand; For hot, cold, moist, and dry, four champions fierce, Strive here for mast'ry.

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.

Pleas'd me, long choosing and beginning late.

Govern well thy appetite, lest Sin surprise thee, and her black attendant Death.

A grateful mind/ By owing owes not, but still pays, at once/ Indebted and discharg'd.

Thus with the year Seasons return; but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn, Or sight of vernal bloom or summer's rose, Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine; But cloud instead, and ever-during dark Surrounds me; from the cheerful ways of men Cut off, and for the book of knowledge fair Presented with a universal blank Of Nature's works, to me expung'd and raz'd, And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out.

Anarchy is the sure consequence of tyranny; for no power that is not limited by laws can ever be protected by them.