Of th'earth? Thinke so: but yet confesse, in this
The worlds proportion disfigured is;
Disorder in the world.
That those two legges whereon it doth rely,
Reward and punishment are bent awry.
305And, Oh, it can no more be questioned,
That beauties best, proportion, is dead,
Since even griefe it selfe, which now alone
Is left us, is without proportion.
Shee by whose lines proportion should bee