And hold one minute of this holy leasure,
Beyond the riches of this empty pleasure.
Welcom pure thoughts, welcom ye silent groves,
These guests, these Courts, my soul most dearly loves,
45Now the wing'd people of the Skie shall sing
My cheerful Anthems to the gladsome Spring;
A Pray'r book now shall be my looking-glasse,
Wherein I will adore sweet vertues face.
Here dwell no hateful looks, no Pallace cares,
50No broken vows dwell here, nor pale-faced fears,