Should have sound minds, which have their senses sound;
But Wisdom grows, when senses do decay,
And Folly most, in quickest sense is found.
If we had nought but Sense, each living wight,
Which we call brute, would be more sharp than we;
As having Sense's apprehensive might
In a more clear and excellent degree.
But they do want that quick discoursing Power,
Which doth, in us, the erring Sense correct:
Therefore the bee did suck the painted flower,