| In-Text |
And indeed, those untamed lusts and affections of ours (which are nothing else but the waves and stormes of our soules rais'd by every litle blast of the flesh) as long as we are inviron'd with these walls of frailty, this rotten tabernacle of the body, Moder ari et regere possumus, amputare non possumus, master perhaps, |
And indeed, those untamed Lustiest and affections of ours (which Are nothing Else but the waves and storms of our Souls raised by every little blast of the Flesh) as long as we Are environed with these walls of frailty, this rotten tabernacle of the body, Mother Ari et Regere possumus, amputare non possumus, master perhaps, |
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