This Is Servitude, To Serve The Unwise.

The First And Wisest Of Them All Professed To Know This Only, That He Nothing Knew.

The Bird Of Jove, Stoop'd From His Aery Tour, Two Birds Of Gayest Plume Before Him Drove.

Her Silent Course Advance With Inoffensive Pace, That Spinning Sleeps On Her Soft Axle.

License They Mean When They Cry Liberty; For Who Loves That, Must First Be Wise And Good.

By Labor And Intent Study (which I Take To Be My Portion In This Life), Joined With The Strong Propensity Of Nature, I Might Perhaps Leave Something So Written To After-times, As They Should Not Willingly Let It Die.