Or of some comfort make discovery,
It were a voyage well employ'd: but I,
Like our raw travellers that cross the seas
To fetch home fashions, or some worse disease,
Instead of quiet, a new torture bring
30Home t' afflict me, malice and murmuring.
What is't I envy not? no dog nor fly
But my desires prefer, and wish were I;
For they are free, or, if they were like me,
They had no sense to know calamity.