Verses made of the life of man. Threescore & ten the life & age of man, In holy Dauids tyme seem'd but a span. And halfe that time is lost & spent in sleepe, Saue onely thirtie fiue for vse wee keepe. Our dayes of youth must bee abated all Childhood & youth wise Soloman doth call But vanity: vanity hee sayes, Is what befals vs in our childish dayes. Our dayes of Age wee take noe pleasure in, And dayes of greife wee wish had neuer binn. Soe age deducted youth, & Sleepe, & Sorrow, Onely one Span is all the life wee borrow 7. Verses made of Maloncholy Hence all you fond delights As short as are the nights Wherein loue Spends its folly 1 There's nought in this world sweet If men were wise to seet Saue onely Malanchollie. Welcome foulded armes & fixed eyes A look that piercing mortifys, 2 An eye that fixed on the ground A toung chain'd vp, without a sound, Fountaine heads, & pathlesse groues Places which pale passion loues. Moone = light walkes when all the fowles, Are warmely hous'd saue batts & owles. 3 A passing bell, a midnights groane, Theise are things wee feede vpon Then stretch our bones, in some still gloamie valley Where's nothing dainty Sweete, saue Malanchollie.
transcribed_information
Verses made of the life of man. Threescore & ten the life & age of man, In holy Dauids tyme seem'd but a span. And halfe that time is lost & spent in sleepe, Saue onely thirtie fiue for vse wee keepe. Our dayes of youth must bee abated all Childhood & youth wise Soloman doth call But vanity: vanity hee sayes, Is what befals vs in our childish dayes. Our dayes of Age wee take noe pleasure in, And dayes of greife wee wish had neuer binn. Soe age deducted youth, & Sleepe, & Sorrow, Onely one Span is all the life wee borrow 7. Verses made of Maloncholy Hence all you fond delights As short as are the nights Wherein loue Spends its folly 1 There's nought in this world sweet If men were wise to seet Saue onely Malanchollie. Welcome foulded armes & fixed eyes A look that piercing mortifys, 2 An eye that fixed on the ground A toung chain'd vp, without a sound, Fountaine heads, & pathlesse groues Places which pale passion loues. Moone = light walkes when all the fowles, Are warmely hous'd saue batts & owles. 3 A passing bell, a midnights groane, Theise are things wee feede vpon Then stretch our bones, in some still gloamie valley Where's nothing dainty Sweete, saue Malanchollie.
Transcription
false