What Passion Cannot Music Raise And Quell!

The Conscience Of A People Is Their Power.

Like Pilgrims To Th' Appointed Place We Tend; The World's An Inn, And Death The Journey's End.

I Maintain, Against The Enemies Of The Stage, That Patterns Of Piety, Decently Represented, May Second The Precepts.

For My Part, I Can Compare Her (a Gossip) To Nothing But The Sun; For, Like Him, She Knows No Rest, Nor Ever Sets In One Place But To Rise In Another.

Fool, Not To Know That Love Endures No Tie, And Jove But Laughs At Lovers' Perjury.