Who fears not to do ill fears the name, And free from conscience, is a slave to fame.
You prove but too clearly that seeking to know Is too frequently learning to doubt.
Books should to one of these fours ends conduce, for wisdom, piety, delight, or use.
Uncertain ways unsafest are, and doubt a greater mischief than despair.
But whither am I strayed? I need not raise Trophies to thee from other men's dispraise; Nor is thy fame on lesser ruins built; Nor needs thy juster title the foul guilt Of Eastern kings, who, to secure their reign, Must have their brothers, sons, and kindred slain.
Actions of the last age are like almanacs of the last year.