In every hedge and ditch both day and night We fear our death, of every leafe affright.
There is no Theam more plentifull to scan,
Then is the glorious goodly frame of Man.
For where's the State beneath the Firmament,
That doth excell the Bees for Government?
God quickened in the Sea and in the Rivers, So many fishes of so many features, That in the waters we may see all Creatures; Even all that on the earth is to be found,! As if the world were in deep waters drowned.
Bright-flaming, heat-full fire,The source of motion.
I take the world to be but as a stage,Where net-maskt men do play their personage.
The will for deed I doe accept.
Apoplexie and lethargie,As forlorn hope, assault the enemy.
And swans seem whiter if swart crowes be by.
Who breaks his faith, no faith is held with him.
A good turn at need,At first or last, shall be assur'd of meed.
Much like the French (or like ourselves, their apes),Who with strange habit do disguise their shapes;Who loving novels, full of affectation,Receive the manners of each other nation.
Night's black Mantle covers all alike.
The world's a stage where God's omnipotence, His justice, knowledge, love, and providence Do act the parts.
What is well done is done soon enough.
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