On The Tawny Sands And

Yet From Those Flames No Light, But Rather Darkness Visible.

The Liberty Of Conscience, Which Above All Other Things Ought To Be To All Men Dearest And Most Precious.

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

Virtue Hath No Tongue To Check Vice's Pride.

If We Think We Regulate Printing, Thereby To Rectify Manners, We Must Regulate All Regulations And Pastimes, All That Is Delightful To Man.