Of the whole substance, not to be contrould,
245And that thou hast but one way, not t'admit
The worlds infection, to be none of it.
For the worlds subtilst immateriall parts
Feele this consuming wound, and ages darts.
For the worlds beauty is decai'd, or gone,
Disformity of parts.
250Beauty, that's colour, and proportion.
We thinke the heavens enjoy their Sphericall,