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What are wee then? How little more alas |
Is man now, then before he was? he was |
Nothing; for us, wee are for nothing fit; |
Chance, or our selves still disproportion it. |
Wee have no power, no will, no sense; I lye, |
I should not then thus feele this miserie. |
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To Sr Henry Wotton. |
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Sir, more then kisses, letters mingle Soules; |
For, thus friends absent speake. This ease controules |
The tediousnesse of my life: But for these |
I could ideate nothing, which could please, |
But I should wither in one day, and passe |
To'a botle'of Hay, that am a locke of Grasse. |
Life is a voyage, and in our lifes wayes |
Countries, Courts, Towns are Rockes, or Remoraes; |
They breake or stop all ships, yet our state's such, |
That though then pitch they staine worse, wee must touch. |
If in the furnace of the raging line, |
Or under th'adverse icy pole thou pine, |
Thou know'st two temperate Regions girded in, |
Dwell there: But Oh, what refuge canst thou winne |
Parch'd in the Court, and in the country frozen? |
Shall cities built of both extremes be chosen? |
Can dung, and garlike be'a perfume? or can
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[CW: A] |