 | The Anatomie of Hvmors |  |
59
[The mal-content hunts Fortune here and there]
The
mal-content hunts Fortune here and there,
His euer-tortring-thoghts disturbs his braine,
Till all his hopes be drown'd in deepe despare,
Then Time tels him his travels are in vaine.
O earthly-wretch, what glory canst thou gaine?
When fruteles-labor-thy short life hath spent:
A restles minde with stil-tormenting paine,
Even whom a world of worlds could not content.
His euer-tortring-thoghts disturbs his braine,
Till all his hopes be drown'd in deepe despare,
Then Time tels him his travels are in vaine.
O earthly-wretch, what glory canst thou gaine?
When fruteles-labor-thy short life hath spent:
A restles minde with stil-tormenting paine,
Even whom a world of worlds could not content.
Frō such base thoghts heavens make my heart aspire,
And with a sweete contentment crowne desire.
And with a sweete contentment crowne desire.
| The Anatomie of Hvmors | |