Let Man's Soul Be A

If They Be Two, They Are Two So As Stiff Twin Compasses Are Two, Thy Soul The Fixt Foot, Makes No Show To Move, But Doth, If The Other Do.

I Have Done One Braver Thing Than All The Worthies Did, And Yet A Braver Thence Doth Spring, Which Is, To Keep That Hid.

Whoever Loves, If He Do Not Propose The Right True End Of Love, He's One That Goes To Sea For Nothing But To Make Him Sick.

And When A Whirl-winde Hath Blowne The Dust Of The Churchyard Into The Church, And Man Sweeps Out The Dust Of The Church Into The Church-yard, Who Will Undertake To Sift Those Dusts Again, And To Pronounce, This Is The Patrician, This Is The Noble Flower, And This The Yeomanly, This The Plebian Bran.

As Peace Is Of All Goodness, So War Is An Emblem, A Hieroglyphic, Of All Misery.