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

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.

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.