In-Text |
Feel, feel the pulse of your own conscience I beseech you, tell me if it do not beat disorderly? Doth it not confuse you to call to mind, that this infidelity, this in ipso genere, hath betrayed you to the tentations of Satan more than all his snares beside? that desperate courage which you assume to your selves upon some hope of impunity is it not the spur to all transgression? God is gentle and of long suffering, his minacies are terrible, |
Feel, feel the pulse of your own conscience I beseech you, tell me if it do not beatrice disorderly? Does it not confuse you to call to mind, that this infidelity, this in ipso genere, hath betrayed you to the tentations of Satan more than all his snares beside? that desperate courage which you assume to your selves upon Some hope of impunity is it not the spur to all Transgression? God is gentle and of long suffering, his minacies Are terrible, |
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