Reason, in faith thou art well served, that still
Wouldst brabling be with sense and love in me--
**
With what sharp checks I in myself am shent,
When into Reason's audit I do go,
And by just counts myself a bankrout know
Of all those goods, which heaven to me hath lent--
**
Fie, school of Patience, fie, your lesson is
Far far too long to learn it without book:
What, a whole week without one piece of look,
And think I should not your large precepts miss?
**
What may words say, or what may words not say,
Where truth it selfe must speake like flatterie?
Within what bounds can one his liking stay,
Where Nature doth with infinite agree?
What Nestors counsell can my flames alay,
Since Reason selfe doth blow the cole in me?
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