A constant maiden still she only did remain,
The last her genuine laws which stoutly did retain.
And as each one is prais'd for her peculiar things;
So only she is rich, in mountains, meres and springs,
And holds herself as great in her superfluous waste,
As others by their towns, and fruitful tillage grac'd.
And of fourteen, as Chapman's Homer.
And as the mind of such a man, that hath a long way gone,
And either knoweth not his way, or else would let alone,
His purpos'd journey, is distract.