Imparadis'd In One Another's Arms.

How Wearisom Eternity So Spent In Worship Paid To Whom We Hate. Let Us Not Then Pursue By Force Impossible, By Leave Obtain'd Unacceptable, Though In Heav'n, Our State Of Splendid Vassalage, But Rather Seek Our Own Good From Our Selves, And From Our Own Live To Our Selves, Though In This Vast Recess, Free, And To None Accountable, Preferring Hard Liberty Before The Easie Yoke Of Servile Pomp

Or Bid The Soul Of Orpheus Sing Such Notes As, Warbled To The String, Drew Iron Tears Down Pluto's Cheek.

Heaven, The Seat Of Bliss, Brooks Not The Works Of Violence And War.

Consider First, That Great Or Bright Infers Not Excellence.

Untwisting All The Chains That Tie The Hidden Soul Of Harmony.