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All newes I thinke sooner reach thee than me; |
Havens are Heavens, and Ships wing'd Angels be, |
The which both Gospell, and sterne threatnings bring; |
Guianaes harvest is nipt in the spring, |
I feare; And with us (me thinkes) Fate deales so |
As with the Iewes guide God did; he did show |
Him the rich land, but barr'd his entry in, |
Our slownesse is our punishment and sinne; |
Perchance, these Spanish businesses being done; |
Which as the earth betweene the Moon and Sunne |
Ecclipse the light which Guiana would give, |
Our discontinued hopes we shall retrieve: |
But if (as All th'All must) hopes smoak away, |
Is not Almighty'Vertue an India? |
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If men be worlds, there is in every one |
Some thing to answer in* some proportion |
All the worlds riches: And in good men, this |
Vertue, our formes forme, and our souls soule is. |
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To M. I. L. |
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Of that short Roll of friends writ in my heart |
Which with thy name begins, since their depart, |
Whether in the English Provinces they bee, |
Or drinke of Po, Sequan, or Danubie, |
There's none that sometime greets us not, and yet |
Your Trent is Lethe',that past, us you forget, |
You doe not duties of Societies,
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[CW: If] |