Morn, Wak'd By The Circling

Courtesy Which Oft Is Found In Lowly Sheds, With Smoky Rafters, Than In Tapestry Halls And Courts Of Princes, Where It First Was Named.

All Hope Is Lost Of My Reception Into Grace; What Worse? For Where No Hope Is Left, Is Left No Fear.

So Dear To Heav'n Is Saintly Chastity, That When A Soul Is Found Sincerely So, A Thousand Liveried Angels Lackey Her, Driving Far Off Each Thing Of Sin And Guilt, And In Clear Dream And Solemn Vision Tell Her Of Things That No Gross Ear Can Hear, Till Oft Converse With Heav'nly Habitants Begin To Cast A Beam On Th' Outward Shape.

Ah Gentle Pair, Ye Little Think How Nigh Your Change Approaches, When All These Delights Will Vanish And Deliver Ye To Woe, More Woe, The More Your Taste Is Now Of Joy.

The Best Apology Against False Accusers Is Silence.