All Women Are Ambitious Naturallie

What Are Kings, When Regiment Is Gone, But Perfect Shadows In A Sunshine Day?

Why This Is Hell, Nor Am I Out Of It: Thinkst Thou That I Who Saw The Face Of God, And Tasted The Eternal Joys Of Heaven, Am Not Tormented With Ten Thousand Hells In Being Deprived Of Everlasting Bliss! . . . When All The World Dissolves, And Every Creature Shall Be Purified, All Places Shall Be Hell That Are Not Heaven.

Cut Is The Branch That Might Have Grown Full Straight, And Burned Is Apollo's Laurel Bough, That Sometime Grew Within This Learned Man. Faustus Is Gone.

Nature That Framed Us Of Four Elements, Warring Within Our Breasts For Regiment, Doth Teach Us All To Have Aspiring Minds: Our Souls, Whose Faculties Can Comprehend The Wondrous Architecture Of The World, And Measure Every Wandering Planet's Course, Still Climbing After Knowledge Infinite, And Always Moving As The Restless Spheres, Wills Us To Wear Ourselves, And Never Rest, Until We Reach The Ripest Fruit Of All, That Perfect Bliss And Sole Felicity, The Sweet Fruition Of An Earthly Crown.

Hell Hath No Limits, Nor Is Circumscribed In One Self Place, For Where We Are Is Hell, And Where Hell Is There Must We Ever Be.