No, Not Jove Himselfe, At One Time,

No, Not Jove Himselfe, At One Time, Can Be Wise And Love.

Art Quickens Nature; Care Will Make A Face; Neglected Beauty Perisheth Apace.

Here A Pretty Baby Lies Sung Asleep With Lullabies: Pray Be Silent, And Not Stirre The Easie Earth That Covers Her.

If Little Labour, Little Are Our Gains: Man's Fortunes Are According To His Pains.

Thus Times Do Shift, Each Thing His Turn Does Hold; New Things Succeed, As Former Things Grow Old.