And Feel That I Am Happier Than

Long Is The Way And Hard, That Out Of Hell Leads Up To Light.

Execute Their Airy Purposes.

Then Might Ye See Cowls, Hoods, And Habits With Their Wearers Tost And Flutter'd Into Rags; Then Reliques, Beads, Indulgences, Dispenses, Pardons, Bulls, The Sport Of Winds; All These Upwhirl'd Aloft Fly To The Rearward Of The World Far Off Into A Limbo Large And Broad, Since Called The Paradise Of Fools.

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

Though We Take From A Covetous Man All His Treasure, He Has Yet One Jewel Left; You Cannot Bereave Him Of His Covetousness.