And add to these retired Leisure, That in trim gardens take his pleasure.
What hath night to do with sleep?
Such bickerings to recount, met often in these our writers, what more worth is it than to chronicle the wars of kites or crows flocking and fighting in the air?
Or if Virtue feeble were, Heav'n itself would stoop to her.
Good, the more communicated, more abundant grows.
My heart contains of good, wise, just, the perfect shape.