How charming is divine philosophy! Not harsh and crabbed, as dull fools suppose, But musical as is Apollo's lute, And a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets Where no crude surfeit reigns

In Physic, things of melancholic hue and quality are used against melancholy, sour against sour, salt to remove salt humors.

There swift return Diurnal, merely to officiate light Round this opacous earth, this punctual spot.

From restless thoughts, that, like a deadly swarm Of hornets arm'd, no sooner found alone, But rush upon me thronging.

For neither man nor angel can discern hypocrisy, the only evil that walks invisible, except to God alone.

He that has light within his own clear breast May sit in the centre, and enjoy bright day: But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts Benighted walks under the mid-day sun; Himself his own dungeon.

God has set labor and rest, as day and night to men successive.