The adulteress lies imprisoned, — whether in a well With bricks above and a snake for company, Or tied by a garter to a bed-post - Robert Browning

In the great right of an excessive wrong.

Be there, for once and all, Severed great minds from small, Announced to each his station in the Past! Was I, the world arraigned, Were they, my soul disdained, Right? Let age speak the truth and give us peace at last! Now, who shall arbitrate? Ten men love what I hate, Shun what I follow, slight what I receive; Ten, who in ears and eyes Match me: we all surmise, They this thing, I that: whom shall my soul believe?

The ultimate, angels' law,
Indulging every instinct of the soul
There where law, life, joy, impulse are one thing!