The Grape that can with Logic absolute The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute: The sovereign Alchemist that in a trice Life’s leaden Metal into Gold can transmute.
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"I sent my soul through the invisible, some letter of that after-life to spell."
"The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on: nor all your Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all your Tears wash out a Word of it."
"The Grape that can with Logic absolute The Two-and-Seventy jarring Sects confute: The sovereign Alchemist that in a trice Fills the all-empty Spirit, and can transmute Base Metal into Gold, and Gold t…"
"Indeed the Idols I have loved so long Have done my credit in this World much wrong: Have drown'd my Honour in a shallow Cup, And sold my Reputation for a Song."
"Why, all the Saints and Sages who discussed Of the Two Worlds so learnedly, are thrust Like foolish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn Are scattered, and their Mouths are stopped with Dust."
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