There is nothing so confining as the prisons of our own perceptions.
Tis the mind that makes the body rich.
Patch up thine old body for heaven.
Now, neighbor confines, purge you of your scum! Have you a ruffian that will swear, drink, dance, revel the night, rob, murder, and commit the oldest sins the newest kind of ways?
But thy eternal summer shall not fade.
What e'er thou art, act well thy part.