My lovely living boy, My hope, my hap, my love, my life, my joy.
For where's the state beneath the firmament That doth excel the bees for government?
Not unlike the bear which bringeth forth In the end of thirty dayes a shapeless birth; But after licking, it in shape she drawes, And by degrees she fashions out the pawes, The head, and neck, and finally doth bring To a perfect beast that first deformed thing.
Will change the pebbles of our puddly thought To orient pearls.
In every hedge and ditch both day and night We fear our death, of every leafe affright.
In the jaws of death.
Who well lives, long lives; for this age of ours Should not be numbered by years, daies, and hours.
To man the earth seems altogether No more a mother, but a step-dame rather.
There is no theam more plentifull to scan Than is the glorious goodly frame of man.
The world's a stage where God's omnipotence, His justice, knowledge, love, and providence Do act the parts.
Who breaks his faith, no faith is held with him.
Much like the French (or like ourselves, their apes),Who with strange habit do disguise their shapes; Who loving novels, full of affectation, Receive the manners of each other nation.
Yielding more wholesome food than all the messes That now taste-curious wanton plenty dresses.
The will for deed I doe accept.
From the foure corners of the worlde doe haste.