The Greatest Attribute Of Heaven

O Woman, Perfect Woman! What Distraction Was Meant To Mankind When Thou Wast Made A Devil!

Corruption Is A Tree, Whose Branches Are Of An Immeasurable Length: They Spread Ev'rywhere; And The Dew That Drops From Thence Hath Infected Some Chairs And Stools Of Authority.

Hence, All You Vain Delights, As Short As Are The Nights Wherein You Spend Your Folly! There's Naught In This Life Sweet But Only Melancholy; O Sweetest Melancholy!

O Great Corrector Of Enormous Times, Shaker Of O'er-rank States, Thou Grand Decider Of Dusty And Old Titles, That Healest With Blood The Earth When It Is Sick, And Curest The World O' The Pleurisy Of People.

Come, Sing Now, Sing; For I Know You Sing Well; I See You Have A Singing Face.