For Day was Cunning and broke over Night.
Day like a Candle is gone out, and where,
None knows, except to th' other Hemisphear.
You must go look the Day with Candle light,
This Day was sure begotten in the Night.
The Lanthorn-looker,[51] if he now began,
Might find the Day, but scarce the honest Man.
Well, Day farewel; be't spoke to thy small praise
There's little honesty found now a Day's.
In vain you do yourself this trouble give,