Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day.
Th'invention all admir'd, and each, how he to be th'inventor miss'd; so easy it seem'd once found, which yet unfound most would have thought impossible.
And out of good still to find means of evil.
Evil on itself shall back recoil.
Reason is also choice.
Was I deceiv'd, or did a sable cloud Turn forth her silver lining on the night?