The never-ending flight Of future days.

Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise. That last infirmity of noble mind. To scorn delights, and live laborious days.

Wisdom's self oft seeks to sweet retired solitude, where with her best nurse Contemplation, she plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings that in the various bustle of resort were all to-ruffled, and sometimes impaired.

The Tree of Knowledge grew fast by, Knowledge of Good bought dear by knowing ill.

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

License they mean when they cry Liberty; For who loves that, must first be wise and good.

Only this I know, That one celestial father gives to all.