Come And Trip It As

Therefore, If At Great Things Thou Wouldst Arrive, Get Riches First, Get Wealth.

This Is The Month, And This The Happy Morn, Wherein The Son Of Heaven's Eternal King, Of Wedded Maid And Virgin Mother Born, Our Great Redemption From Above Did Bring.

I Was All Ear, And Took In Strains That Might Create A Soul Under The Ribs Of Death.

Th' Ethereal Mould Incapable Of Stain Would Soon Expel Her Mischief, And Purge Off The Baser Fire, Victorious. Thus Repuls'd, Our Final Hope Is Flat Despair.

That Power Which Erring Men Call Chance.