Then, they, me thinkes, as fruitlesse doe appeare,
As Bubbles (wherewithall young-children play)
Or, as the Smoke, which, in our Emblem, here,
Now, makes a show, and, straight, consumes away.
Be pleas'd, Oh God, my value may be such
Of every Outward-blessing, here below,
That, I may neither love them overmuch,
Nor underprise the Gifts, thou shalt bestow:
But, know the use, of all these fading Smokes;
And, be refresht, by that, which others chokes.