Our way is Serpent like, in Meeds which lye,
That bowes the Grasse, but never makes no path:
But fitter like yong maides, and youths together,
Run here and there, alwhere, and none Know whether.
[VII. 328.]Our way we Know, and yet unknowne to other,
And whiles misknowne to us, before we dive;
The hand, and compasse, that governe the Ruther
Doe often erre: although the Pilots strive
With Cart and plot; their reckonings sometimes fall,
Too narrow, short, too high, too wide, too small.