Nothing Emboldens Sin So Much As Mercy.

For Where Is Any Author In The World Teaches Such Beauty As A Woman's Eye?

Our Jovial Star Reigned At His Birth.

How Sweet The Moonlight Sleeps Upon This Bank! Here Will We Sit, And Let The Sounds Of Music Creep In Our Ears; Soft Stillness And The Night Become The Touches Of Sweet Harmony. Sit, Jessica: Look, How The Floor Of Heaven Is Thick Inlaid With Patines Of Bright Gold; There's Not The Smallest Orb Which Thou Behold'st But In His Motion Like An Angel Sings, Still Quiring To The Young-eyed Cherubins. Such Harmony Is In Immortal Souls; But Whilst This Muddy Vesture Of Decay Doth Grossly Close It In, We Cannot Hear It.

One Sin, I Know, Another Doth Provoke. Murder's As Near To Lust As Flame To Smoke.

Make Not Your Thoughts Your Prisons.