This is servitude, To serve th’unwise, or him who hath rebelled Against his worthier, as thine now serve thee, Thyself not free, but to thyself enthralled.
Fame, if not double fac’d, is double mouth’d, And with contrary blast proclaims most deeds; On both his wings, one black, the other white, Bears greatest names in his wild aery flight.
The timely dew of sleep Now falling with soft slumb’rous weight inclines Our eyelids.
It is lawful and hath been held so through all ages for any one who have the power to call to account a tyrant or wicked king, and after due conviction to depose and put him to death.
Wisdom’s self oft seeks to sweet retired solitude, where with her best nurse Contemplation, she plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings that in the various bustle of resort were all to-ruffled, and sometimes impaired.
No man who knows aught, can be so stupid to deny that all men naturally were born free.
Spirits that live throughout, Vital in every part, not as frail man, In entrails, heart or head, liver or reins, Cannot but by annihilating die.
Forget thyself to marble.
I will not allow my daughters to learn foreign languages because one tongue is sufficient for a woman.
Yet I argue not Against Heav’n’s hand or will, nor bate a jot Of heart or hope; but still bear up and steer Right onward.
In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds On half the nations, and with fear of change Perplexes monarchs.
A crown Golden in show, is but a wreath of thorns, Bring dangers, troubles, cares, and sleepless nights To him who wears the regal diadem.
New Presbyter is but Old Priest writ Large.
Cedar, and pine, and fir, and branching palm, A sylvan scene, and as the ranks ascend Shade above shade, a woody theatre Of stateliest view.
Nor from hell One step no more than from himself can fly By change of place.
But hail thou Goddess sage and holy, Hail, divinest Melancholy, Whose saintly visage is too bright To hit the sense of human sight, And therefore to our weaker view O’erlaid with black, staid Wisdom’s hue.
And I will place within them as a guide My umpire conscience, whom if they will hear Light after light well used they shall attain, And to the end persisting, safe arrive.
And now without redemption all mankind Must have been lost, adjudged to death and hell By doom severe.
The low’ring element Scowls o’er the darken’d landscape.
As therefore the state of man now is, what wisdom can there be to choose, what continence to forbear, without the knowledge of good and evil?