While that poore Branch, lay sleighted in the durt.
Nay, I have seene such twiggs, afford them shade,
By whom they were the meanest shrippings made,
Of all the Wood; And, you may live to see,
(For ought yet knowne) some such event in mee.
And, what if all who know mee, see me dead,
Before those hopes begin to spring and spread?
Have therefore they that hate me, cause to boast,
As if mine expectations I had lost?
No sure: For, I, who by Faith's eyes have seene,