And that the dead is by herself forgot

And I no longer would keep terms with me.

I would not murder, steal, or fornicate,

Nor with ambition break the peace of towns

But I would bury my ambition

The hope & action of my sovereign soul

In miserable ruin. Nor a hope

Should ever make a holiday for me

I would not be the fool of accident

I would not have a project seek an end

That needed aught

Beyond the handful of my present means

The sun of Duty drop from his firmament

To be a rushlight for each petty end

I would not harm my fellow men

On this low argument, ‘twould harm myself.