Tis Mad Idolatry To Make

Vanity Keeps Persons In Favor With Themselves Who Are Out Of Favor With All Others.

Thou Whoreson Zed! Thou Unnecessary Letter! My Lord, If You Will Give Me Leave, I Will Tread This Unbolted Villain Into Mortar, And Daub The Wall Of A Jakes With Him. *all Cheer For Shakespearean Insults*

Tut, Man, One Fire Burns Out Another's Burning; One Pain Is Less'ned By Another's Anguish; Turn Giddy, And Be Holp By Backward Turning; One Desperate Grief Cures With Another's Languish.

The Present Eye Praises The Present Object.

Weary With Toil, I Haste Me To My Bed The Dear Repose For Limbs With Travel Tired; But Then Begins A Journey In My Head To Work My Mind, When Body's Work's Expir'd: For Then My Thoughts-from Far Where I Abide- Intend A Zealous Pilgrimage To Thee, And Keep My Drooping Eyelids Open Wide, Looking On Darkness Which The Blind Do See: Save That My Soul's Imaginary Sight Presents Thy Shadow To My Sightless View, Which, Like A Jewel Hung In Ghastly Night, Makes Black Night Beauteous And Her Old Face New. Lo! Thus, By Day My Limbs, By Night My Mind, For Thee, And For Myself No Quiet Find.