Death, Thou Shalt Die.

Poor Heretics There Be,which Think To Establish Dangerous Constancy,but I Have Told Them, ‘since You Will Be True,you Shall Be True To Them, Who Are False To You.

Reason Is Our Soul's Left Hand, Faith Her Right, By These We Reach Divinity

If Ever Any Beauty I Did See, Which I Desired, And Got, 'twas But A Dream Of Thee.

But I Do Nothing Upon Myself, And Yet I Am My Own Executioner.

At The Round Earth's Imagined Corners, Blow Your Trumpets, Angels, And Arise, Arise From Death, You Numberless Infinities Of Souls **** All Whom War, Dearth, Age, Agues, Tyrannies, Despair, Law, Chance, Hath Slain.