Rather Than Be Less Car'd

He Who Would Not Be Frustrate Of His Hope To Write Well Hereafter In Laudable Things Ought Himself To Be A True Poem.

Who Shall Silence All The Airs And Madrigals That Whisper Softness In Chambers?

With Thee Conversing I Forget All Time.

Our Reason Is Our Law.

There Is No Truth Sure Enough To Justify Persecution.