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O thou which to search out the secrett partes Of the India, or rather Paradise Of knowledge, hast with courage and aduise Lately launchd into the Vast Sea of Artes Disdaine not in thy constant traualinge, To doe as other Voyagers, and make Some turnes into lesse Creekes, and wisely take Fresh water at the Heliconian Springe I sing not Syren-like to tempt, for I Am harsh; nor as those Scismatiques with you Which drawe all witts of good hope to their crue But seeme in yow bright sparkes of Poetrie, I though I brought no fuell, had desire With these Articulate blasts, to blow the fire.| Is not thy sacred hvnger of science Yet satisfied? is not thy braines rich hiue Fulfild with honie, which thou dost deriue From the Arts Spiritts, and their Quintessence Then weane thy selfe att last, and thee with drawne From Cambridge, thy old Nurse; and as the rest Here toughlye chaw, and sturdilie disgest The Immense Vast Volumes of our Common Lawe; And begin soone, least my griefe griue thee too, Which is that that which I showld haue begun In my youths Morninge, Now late mvst bee done |
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