Truth Is As Impossible To Be Soiled

By This Time, Like One Who Had Set Out On His Way By Night, And Travelled Through A Region Of Smooth Or Idle Dreams, Our History Now Arrives On The Confines, Where Daylight And Truth Meet Us With A Clear Dawn, Representing To Our View, Though At A Far Distance, True Colours And Shapes.

But Infinite In Pardon Is My Judge.

Is It Just Or Reasonable, That Most Voices Against The Main End Of Government Should Enslave The Less Number That Would Be Free? More Just It Is, Doubtless, If It Come To Force, That A Less Number Compel A Greater To Retain, Which Can Be No Wrong To Them, Their Liberty, Than That A Greater Number, For The Pleasure Of Their Baseness, Compel A Less Most Injuriously To Be Their Fellow-slaves. They Who Seek Nothing But Their Own Just Liberty, Have Always Right To Win It And To Keep It, Whenever They Have Power, Be The Voices Never So Numerous That Oppose It.

But What More Oft In Nations Grown Corrupt, And By Their Vices Brought To Servitude, Than To Love Bondage More Than Liberty, Bondage With Ease Than Strenuous Liberty.

Did I Request Thee, Maker, From My Clay To Mould Me Man? Did I Solicit Thee From Darkness To Promote Me?