In religion, What damned error but some sober brow Will bless it, and approve it with a text, Hiding the grossness with fair ornament?
I always thought it was both impious and unnatural that such immanity and bloody strife should reign among professors of one faith.
Thrust your head into the public street, to gaze on Christian fools with varnish'd faces.
His worst fault is, he's given to prayer; he is something peevish that way.
Methinks sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian.
Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, Which we ascribe to Heaven.
It is a heretic that makes the fire, Not she which burns in it.
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