Doth Not A Man Die

There Is No Health; Physicians Say That We, At Best, Enjoy But Neutrality.

To Rage, To Lust, To Write To, To Commend, All Is The Purlieu Of The God Of Love.

Our Critical Day Is Not The Very Day Of Our Death; But The Whole Course Of Our Life.

Nothing But Man Of All Envenomed Things, Doth Work Upon Itself, With Inborn Stings.

And New Philosophy Calls All In Doubt, The Element Of Fire Is Quite Put Out; The Sun Is Lost, And The Earth, And No Man's Wit Can Well Direct Him Where To Look For It. And Freely Men Confess That This World's Spent, When In The Planets, And The Firmament They Seek So Many New; Then See That This Is Crumbled Out Again To His Atomies. 'tis All In Pieces, All Coherence Gone; All Just Supply, And All Relation: Prince, Subject, Father, Son, Are Things Forgot.