And you can never know it; To admit
30No knowledge of your worth, is some of it.
But since to you, your praises discords bee,
Stoop, others ills to meditate with mee.
Oh! to confesse wee know not what we should,
Is halfe excuse; wee know not what we would:
35Lightnesse depresseth us, emptinesse fills,
We sweat and faint, yet still goe downe the hills.
As new Philosophy arrests the Sunne,
And bids the passive earth about it runne,