The donkeys and mules are of diminutive sizes, but retain their asinary qualities in as great a degree as their patient brethren in the other parts of the world.

Stoop villaine, ſtoop, ſtoope for ſo he bids, That may commaund thee peecemeale to be torne, Or ſcattered like the lofty Cedar trees. Strooke with the voice of thundring Iupiter.

Not destitute of love to God or Man; But with a serpent's quiet, hissing, hate, To whoso misbelieves, misdeems, mishopes; Nor sparing God himself, if God should spare, Nor loving whoso deems His name is Love, Nor speaking truly of who seeks but truth.

I have continued in this vein by arguing that even when the black subject turns pathological, becomes the bad black, his antisociality, his niggerishness, once again does the important work of demonstrating that he is removed from the main currents of modern society […]