Excerpt from The British Bibliographer, Vol. 1 Let not Ambition, nor a foul Desire, Nor Hate, nor Envy set my heart on fire; Revenge, nor Choler, no, nor Jealousy; And keep me from Despair and Cruelty Fond hepe expel, and I beseech thee, bless My soul from fear, and too much heaviness. But give. Me special grace to shun the vice That is so common; beastly Avarice: Yea, grant me power I not only know, But fly those evils, that from Passion flow. Moreover, now inspire my soul with Art, And grant me thy assistance to impart The rest of man's ill customs yet remaining, fluid their vain humours; that, by my explaining, They may perceive how odious I can make them, Blush at the reading, and at last forsake them. So let my Muse in this, and things to come, Sing to thy glory, Lord, or else he dumb.
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