And yet through thy cleare arguments I see Thy speach is farre exempt from flatterie; And how illiterate custome groslie erres Almost in all traditions she preferres.

How often, when the Sun, heavens brightest birth, Hath with his burning fervour cleft the earth, Under a spreading Elme, or Oake, hard by A coole cleare fountaine, could I sleeping lie, Safe from the heate?