Ungratefulness Is The Very Poison Of Manhood.

If Any Sensual Weakness Arise, We Are To Yield All Our Sound Forces To The Overthrowing Of So Unnatural A Rebellion; Wherein How Can We Want Courage, Since We Are To Deal Against So Feeble An Adversary, That In Itself Is Nothing But Weakness? Nay, We Are To Resolve That If Reason Direct It, We Must Do It, And If We Must Do It, We Will Do It; For To Say "i Cannot" Is Childish, And "i Will Not" Is Womanish.

Poetry, A Speaking Picture To Teach And Delight.

How Violently Do Rumors Blow The Sails Of Popular Judgments! How Few There Be That Can Discern Between Truth And Truth-likeness, Between Shows And Substance!

What Is Birth To A Man If It Shall Be A Stain To His Dead Ancestors To Have Left Such An Offspring?

Nature Never Set Forth The Earth In So Rich Tapestry As Divers Poets Have Done; Neither With Pleasant Rivers, Fruitful Trees, Sweet-smelling Flowers, Nor Whatsoever Else May Make The Too-much-loved Earth More Lovely; Her World Is Brazen, The Poets Only Deliver A Golden.