Death Hath A Thousand Doors To Let

Revenge, That Thirsty Dropsy Of Our Souls, Makes Us Covet That Which Hurts Us Most.

Factions Among Yourselves; Preferring Such To Offices And Honors, As Ne'er Read The Elements Of Saving Policy; But Deeply Skilled In All The Principles That Usher To Destruction.

Before We End Our Pilgrimage, 'tis Fit That We Should Leave Corruption, And Foul Sin, Behind Us, But With Wash'd Feet And Hands, The Heathens Dar' Not Enter Their Profane Temples; And For Me To Hope My Passage To Eternity Can Be Made Easy, Till I Have Shook Off The Burthen Of My Sins In Free Confession, Aided With Sorrow, And Repentance For Them, Is Against Reason.

Virgin Me No Virgins! I Must Have You Lose That Name, Or You Lose Me.

They Are Only Safe That Know To Soothe The Prince's Appetite, And Serve His Lusts.