While he was declaring the truth, a constable came in with his great staff, and bid him give over, and come down: but William Penn held on, declaring truth in the power of God.

"I've been sacrificing so to strange gods that I feel I want to put on record, somehow, my fidelity—fundamentally unchanged, after all—to our own. I feel as if my hands were embrued with the blood of monstrous alien altars—of another faith altogether.

But whether upward to the moon they go, Or dream the winter out in caves below, Or hawk at flies elsewhere

The manuscript he's come up with, he asserts, is a rarity for him: It represents experience untransformed by the power of imagination.