O welcome pure-eyed Faith, white handed Hope, Thou hovering angel girt with golden wings.

Beauty is Nature's coin, must not be hoarded, But must be current, and the good thereof Consists in mutual and partaken bliss.

So shall the world go on, To good malignant, to bad men benign, Under her own weight groaning.

Every cloud has a silver lining.

Pandemonium, the high capital Of Satan and his peers.

Hear all ye angels, progeny of light, Thrones, dominations, princedoms, virtues, powers.

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.