No Glass Renders A Man's

In Small Proportions We Just Beauties See; And In Short Measures, Life May Perfect Be.

Let Those That Merely Talk And Never Think, That Live In The Wild Anarchy Of Drink

True Gladness Doth Not Always Speak; Joy, Bred And Born But In The Tongue, Is Weak.

How Ready Is Heaven To Those That Pray!

Ambition, Like A Torrent, Ne'er Looks Back; And Is A Swelling, And The Last Affection A High Mind Can Put Off; Being Both A Rebel Unto The Soul And Reason, And Enforceth All Laws, All Conscience, Treads Upon Religion, And Offereth Violence To Nature's Self.