Loneliness is the first thing which God's eye named not good.

Equally inured by moderation either state to bear, prosperous or adverse.

Till old experience do attain To something like prophetic strain.

It was that fatal and perfidious bark, Built in th' eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark.

Goodness thinks no ill Where no ill seems.

Thou canst not touch the freedom of my mind.

So dear to heav'n is saintly chastity, That when a soul is found sincerely so, A thousand liveried angels lackey her, Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt, And in clear dream and solemn vision Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear, Till oft converse with heav'nly habitants Begin to cast a beam on th' outward shape.