It is myself I mean: in whom I know All the particulars of vice so grafted That, when they shall be open’d, black Macbeth Will seem as pure as snow, and the poor state Esteem him as a lamb, being compared With my confineless harms.

All theſe are ſeruants to deceitfull men.

Hither no winds, but zephyrous breaths repair, Soft, as the sighs of love sick virgins are!

Out of all the symbolizings of Scripture, none convey to us a higher conception of that dwelling-place to which we hope to go than the statement of Paul that God hath prepared for them a city.