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Poems Divine, and Humane

By Thomas Beedome

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Against prejudicate opinion.

The humble soule, the mind opprest,
Shall finde unto his conscience rest:
The cleare in heart, the single eye,
Laughs at his neighbours jealousie,
Then let men censure what they can,
The inside makes the honest man.
Who'ld thinke a clod of earth should hold
Within, a masse of splendent gold?
So filly woods have fragrant smels,
And Pearles are found in sordid shels,
Base scabbards hold approved swords;
And leatherne covers golden words.
Digge up the earth, and burne the wood,


The gold, and smell will both be good;
Unsheath the blade, the booke untye,
One takes your heart, to'ther your eye,
Had these laid still they might have gone,
Thought hardly worth the looking on:
Then judge what folly there had beene
To censure any thing unseene.