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To labor after other knowledge so,

And thine own nearest, dearest self not know?
Travels abroad both dear and dangerous are,
Whilft oft the soul pays for the body's fare.
Travels at home are cheap and safe.
Comes mounted on the wings of meditation.


He that doth live at home, and learns to know
God and himself, needeth no further go.

Christopher Harvey.


HY doth ambition so the mind diftreffe
To make us scorne what we poffeffe,

And look so farre before us, fince all we

Can hope, is varied misery?

Goe find some whispering fhade neare Arne or Po,
And gently 'mong their violets throw
Your weary'd limbs, and see if all those faire
Enchantments can charme griefe or care.
Our sorrowes ftill pursue us; and when you
The ruin'd capitol fhall view,

And ftatues, a disorder'd heape; you can
Not cure yet the disease of man,

And banish your owne thoughts. Go travaile where

Another Sun and starres appeare,

And land not toucht by any covetous fleet,
And yet even there yourself you'll meete.
Stay here then, and while curious exiles find
New toyes for a fantastique mind,

Enjoy at home what's reall: here the Spring
By her aeriall quires doth fing

As sweetly to you, as if you were laid
Vnder the learn'd Theffalian fhade.
Direct your eyefight inward, and you'll find
A thousand regions in your mind
Yet undiscover'd. Travell them, and be
Expert in home cosmographie.

This you may doe safe both from rocke and shelfe: Man's a whole world within himselfe.

Habington. 1605-1654.

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For many have been harmed by speech,—
Through thinking, few, or none.

Fear oftentimes reftraineth words,
But makes not thoughts to cease;
And he speaks best, that hath the skill
When for to hold his peace.

Our wealth leaves us at death,
Our kinsmen at the grave,

But virtues of the mind unto

The heavens with us we have; Wherefore, for virtue's sake,

I can be well content

The sweetest time of all my life

To deem in thinking spent.

Lord Vaux. Died in 1555.



IVE me my scallop-shell of quiet,
My staff of faith to walk upon;
My scrip of joy, immortal diet;
My bottle of salvation;

My gown of glory (hope's true gage),
And thus I'll take my pilgrimage.
Blood must be my body's only balmer
Whilft my soul, like a quiet Palmer,
Travelleth towards the land of Heaven;
No other balm will there be given.

Sir Walter Raleigh. 1522-1618.

UT what, or who are we [alas]

B That we in giving are so free!

Thine own before our offering was,
And all we have we have from thee.
For we are guests and ftrangers here,
As were our fathers in thy fight;
Our days but fhadow-like appear,
And suddenly they take their flight.

George Wither.


IN vain do men

The heavens of their fortunes' fault accuse, Sith they know beft what is the best for them; For they to each such fortune do diffuse.

As they do know each can moft aptly use.

For not that which men covet moft is beft,

Nor that thing worst which men do most refuse;

But fitteft is, that all contented rest

With that they hold; each hath his fortune in his breast.

It is the mind that maketh good or ill,

That maketh wretch or happy, rich or poor;

For some that hath abundance at his will,

Hath not enough; but wants in greater ftore;
And other, that hath little, asks no more,
But in that little is both rich and wise;

For wisdom is moft riches: fools therefore
They are which fortune do by vows devise,
Sith each unto himself his life may fortunize.

Spenser. 1553-1599.

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