Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence.

Yet, in contradiction to all these very plausible presumptions, even this remote period teems with its own peculiar and separate instruction.

As Sodomes Apples, neere th’Asphalticke lake, Of specious shew, yet touch’t, to ashes turning, So are sinnes poysons sweete, yet bane to take;

He will distort his mind to make it look violent, as posture-makers twist their bodies to display their muscles, or as maniacs do it so out of spasm.