Part of the World in it's first strength doth live.
Folly? what dost thou in thy power containe
Deserves our study? Merchants plough the maine
And bring home th' Indies, yet aspire to more,
By avarice in the possession poore.
And yet that Idoll wealth we all admit
Into the soules great temple. Busie wit
Invents new Orgies, fancy frames new rites
To show it's superstition, anxious nights
Are watcht to win its favour: while the beast