Lord Bacon, 1561–1627.
THE WISH.
Well, then, I now do plainly see
This busy world and I shall ne’er agree—
The very honey of all earthly joy
Does of all meats the soonest cloy;
And they, methinks, deserve my pity,
Who for it can endure the stings,
The crowd, the buzz, and murmurings,
Of this great hive, the city.