“Let but thy wicked men from out thee go,And all the fools that crowd thee so,Even thou, who dost thy millions boast,A village less than Islington wilt grow,A solitude almost.” Abraham Cowley Of Solitude Of Solitude, vii; reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919).
“The monster London laugh at me.” Abraham Cowley Of Solitude Of Solitude, xi; reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919).