Persecution Is A Bad And Indirect Way

A Man May Be In As Just Possession Of The Truth As Of A City, And Yet Be Forced To Surrender.

Were The Happiness Of The Next World Is As Closely Apprehended As The Felicities Of This, It Were A Martyrdom To Live.

Sleep Is A Death, O Make Me Try By Sleeping, What It Is To Die, And As Gently Lay My Head On My Grave, As Now My Bed.

And Surely, He That Hath Taken The True Altitude Of Things, And Rightly Calculated The Degenerate State Of This Age, Is Not Like To Envy Those That Shall Live In The Next, Much Less Three Or Four Hundred Years Hence, When No Man Can Comfortably Imagine What Face This World Will Carry.

For My Part, I Have Ever Believed, And Do Now Know, That There Are Witches.