is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandring bark,
Whose worths unknown, although his height be
Loves not Times fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickles compass come;
alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom:
If this be error and
upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
TH expense of Spirit in a waste of shame
Is lust in action; and till action, lust
Is perjured, murderous,
bloody, full of blame,
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust;
Enjoyd no sooner but despisàed straight;
reason hunted; and, no sooner had,
Past reason hated, as a swallowd bait
On purpose laid to make the
Mad in pursuit, and in possession so;
Had, having, and in quest to have, extreme;
A bliss in
proof, and proved, a very woe;
Before, a joy proposed; behind, a dream.
All this the world well knows; yet
none knows well
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.
POOR soul, the centre of my sinful earth
My sinful earth, these rebel powers array
Why dost thou
pine within and suffer dearth,
Painting thy outward walls so costly gay?
Why so large cost, having so
short a lease,
Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend?
Shall worms, inheritors of this excess,
thy charge? Is this thy bodys end?
Then, soul, live thou upon thy servants loss,
And let that pine to aggravate
Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross;
Within be fed, without be rich no more:
So shalt thou
feed on Death, that feeds on men;
And Death once dead, theres no more dying then.