And careless ever since how she her course doth steer,
This mutt’reth to herself, in wand’ring here and there:
‘Even in the aged’st face, where beauty once did dwell,
‘And nature (in the least) but seemed to excell,
‘Time cannot make such waste, but something will appear,
‘To shew some little tract of delicacy there,
‘Or some religious work, in building many a day,
‘That this penurious age hath suffer’d to decay;
‘Some limb or model dragg’d out of the ruinous mass,
‘The richness will declare in glory whilst it was: