When Misfortune Is Asleep, Let No One

Pity Only On Fresh Objects Stays, But With The Tedious Sight Of Woes Decays.

For Granting We Have Sinned, And That The Offence Of Man Is Made Against Omnipotence, Some Price That Bears Proportion Must Be Paid, And Infinite With Infinite Be Weighed.

Plots, True Or False, Are Necessary Things, To Raise Up Commonwealths And Ruin Kings.

Three Poets, In Three Distant Ages Born, Greece, Italy, And England Did Adorn. The First In Loftiness Of Thought Surpass'd; The Next, In Majesty; In Both The Last. The Force Of Nature Could No Further Go; To Make A Third, She Join'd The Former Two.

Whatever Is, Is In Its Causes Just.