Went you to conquer? and have so much lost Yourself, that what in you was best and most, Respective friendship, should so quickly dye? In publique gaine my share'is not such that I Would lose your love for Ireland: better cheap I pardon death (who though he do not reap Yet gleanes hee many of our frends away) Then that your waking mind should bee a prey To lethargies. Lett shott, and boggs, and skeines With bodies deale, as fate bids and restreynes; Ere sicknesses attack, yong death is best, Who payes before his death doth scape arrest. Lett not your soule (at first with graces fill'd, And since, and thorough crooked lymbecks, still'd In many schools and courts, which quicken it,) It self unto the Irish negligence submit. I aske not labored letters which should weare Long papers out: nor letters which should feare Dishonest carriage: or a seers art: Nor such as from the brayne come, but the hart. |