Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail Or knock the breast, no weakness, no contempt, Dispraise, or blame,-nothing but well and fair, And what may quiet us in a death so noble.

Herbs, and other country messes, Which the neat-handed Phillis dresses.

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

At His birth a star, unseen before in heaven, proclaims Him come.

To live a life half dead, a living death.

Then wilt thou not be loath To leave this Paradise, but shalt possess A Paradise within thee, happier far.

Now I see Peace to corrupt no less than war to waste.