Govern Well Thy Appetite, Lest

Angels Contented With Their Face In Heaven, Seek Not The Praise Of Men.

Never Can True Reconcilement Grow Where Wounds Of Deadly Hate Have Pierced So Deep.

On A Sudden Open Fly With Impetuous Recoil And Jarring Sound Th' Infernal Doors, And On Their Hinges Grate Harsh Thunder.

With Ruin Upon Ruin, Rout On Rout, Confusion Worse Confounded.

Thrones, Dominions, Princedoms, Virtues, Powers-- If These Magnific Titles Yet Remain Not Merely Titular.