He Touch'd The Tender Stops Of Various

Let Us No More Contend, Nor Blame Each Other, Blamed Enough Elsewhere, But Strive, In Offices Of Love, How We May Lighten Each Other's Burden.

Midnight Shout And Revelry, Tipsy Dance And Jollity.

Those Whom Reason Hath Equalled, Force Hath Made Supreme

Fame Is The Spur That The Clear Spirit Doth Raise

A Dungeon Horrible, On All Sides Round, As One Great Furnace, Flamed; Yet From Those Flames No Light, But Rather Darkness Visible Serv'd Only To Discover Sights Of Woe, Regions Of Sorrow, Doleful Shades, Where Peace And Rest Can Never Dwell, Hope Never Comes That Comes To All; But Torture Without End.