Tis Mad Idolatry To Make The Service

The Blood Weeps From My Heart When I Do Shape, In Forms Imaginary, Th' Unguided Days And Rotten Times That You Shall Look Upon When I Am Sleeping With My Ancestors.

To You Your Father Should Be As A God.

I Will Not Choose What Many Men Desire, Because I Will Not Jump With Common Spirits And Rank Me With The Barbarous Multitudes.

Your Wisdom Is Consum'd In Confidence. Do Not Go Forth To-day.

I Must Be Cruel Only To Be Kind; Thus Bad Begins, And Worse Remains Behind.