No Date Prefixed Directs Me

Nor Jealousy Was Understood, The Injur'd Lover's Hell.

Give Me The Liberty To Know, To Utter, And To Argue Freely According To Conscience, Above All Liberties.

And Some Are Fall'n, To Disobedience Fall'n, And So From Heav'n To Deepest Hell; O Fall From What High State Of Bliss Into What Woe!

None But Such As Are Good Men Can Give Good Things, And That Which Is Not Good, Is Not Delicious To A Well-govern'd And Wise Appetite.

O Conscience, Into What Abyss Of Fears And Horrors Hast Thou Driven Me, Out Of Which I Find No Way, From Deep To Deeper Plunged.