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BedfWrit ["To haue written then, when yow writt, seemd to mee"]


And yow can never know itt; to admitt
No knowledg of your worth, is some of itt.
But since to yow your prayses discordes bee
Stoope, others ills to meditate with mee.
Oh to confesse wee knowe not what wee should,
Is halfe excuse, wee know not what wee would.
Lightness depresses vs; Emptines fills;
Wee sweate, and faint, yet still goe downe the Hills.
As new Philosophie arrests the Sunne,
And bids the passiue Earth about itt rvnne
So wee haue duld our mynde: It hath no ends;
Only the body is busie; and pretends
As dead low Earth, Eclipses and controules
The quick high Moone; so doth the body Soules.
In none but vs are such mixt Engines found
As hands of double office; for the ground
Wee till with them, and them to heauen wee raise.
Who Praier-lesse labours, or with out this prayes
Doth but one halfe; thats none. Hee which said Plough
And looke not back, to looke vp, doth allow
Good seede degenerates, and oft obaies
The Soyles disease, and into Cockle straies.
Lett the Myndes thoughts bee but transplanted so
Into the body, and Basterdly they growe
What hate could hurt, or bodies like our loue
Wee, but no forreine tyrans could remoue
These not ingraued, but inborne Dignities
Casketts of Soules, Temples, and Pallaces,
For bodies shall from death redeemed bee
Soules but preserud, not naturallie free
As Men to our Prisons now, Soules to vs are sent,
Which learne itt there, and come in Innocent. [CW: First.]
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