Art Remains The One Way Possible Of

A Pretty Woman's Worth Some Pains To See, Nor Is She Spoiled, I Take It, If A Crown Completes The Forehead Pale And Tresses Pure.

If All The World Is A Stage And Life Is Just A Play Upon It, Get Me Two Seats In The Stalls.

Graved Inside Of It, "italy".

Though Rome's Gross Yoke Drops Off, No More To Be Endured, Her Teaching Is Not So Obscured By Errors And Perversities, That No Truth Shines Athwart The Lies.

The Body Sprang At Once To The Height, And Stayed; But The Soul,-no!