John Milton

And in requital ope his leathern scrip,
And show me simples of a thousand names,
Telling their read more

And in requital ope his leathern scrip,
And show me simples of a thousand names,
Telling their strange and vigorous faculties.

For never can true reconcilement grow,
Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep.

For never can true reconcilement grow,
Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep.

There is no truth sure enough to justify persecution.

There is no truth sure enough to justify persecution.

Or did the soul of Orpheus sing
Such notes as, warbled to the string,
Drew iron tears read more

Or did the soul of Orpheus sing
Such notes as, warbled to the string,
Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek.

What does not destroy me, makes me strong.

What does not destroy me, makes me strong.