Should injure Nature, Vertue, and Destinie, 60 Should I divide and discontinue so, Vertue, which did in one intirenesse grow. For as, hee that would say, spirits are fram'd Of all the purest parts that can be nam'd, Honours not spirits halfe so much, as hee 65 Which sayes, they have no parts, but simple bee; So is't of vertue; for a point and one Are much entirer then a million. And had Fate meant to have his vertues told, It would have let him live to have beene old; 70 So, then that vertue in season, and then this, We might have seene, and said, that now he is Witty, now wise, now temperate, now just: In good short lives, vertues are faine to thrust, And to be sure betimes to get a place, 75 When they would exercise, lacke time, and space. So was it in this person, forc'd to bee For lack of time, his owne epitome: So to exhibit in few yeares as much, As all the long breath'd Chronicles can touch. 80 As when an Angell down from heav'n doth flye, Our quick thought cannot keepe him company, Wee cannot thinke, now hee is at the Sunne, Now through the Moon, now he through th'aire doth run, Yet when he's come, we know he did repaire 85 To all twixt Heav'n and Earth, Sunne, Moon, and Aire; And as this Angell in an instant knowes, And yet wee know, this sodaine knowledge growes By quick amassing severall formes of things, Which he successively to order brings; 90 When they, whose slow-pac'd lame thoughts cannot goe So fast as hee, thinke that he doth not so; Just as a perfect reader doth not dwell, On every syllable, nor stay to spell, Yet without doubt, hee doth distinctly see 95 And lay together every A, and B; So, in short liv'd good men, is'not understood Each severall vertue, but the compound good; For, they all vertues paths in that pace tread, As Angells goe, and know, and as men read. 100 O why should then these men, these lumps of Balme Sent hither, this worlds tempests to becalme, Before by deeds they are diffus'd and spred, And so make us alive, themselves be dead? O Soule, O circle, why so quickly bee 105 Thy ends, thy birth and death, clos'd up in thee? Since one foot of thy compasse still was plac'd In heav'n, the other might securely'have pac'd In the most large extent, through every path, Which the whole world, or man the abridgment hath. 110 Thou knowst, that though the tropique circles have (Yea and those small ones which the Poles engrave,) All the same roundnesse, evennesse, and all The endlesnesse of the equinoctiall; Yet, when we come to measure distances, 115 How here, how there, the Sunne affected is,