When I consider how my light is spent E're half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one Talent which is death to hide, Lodg'd with me useless, though my Soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, least he returning chide, Doth God exact day-labour, light deny'd, I fondly ask; But patience to prevent That murmur, soon replies, God doth not need Either man's work or his own gifts, who best Bear his milde yoak, they serve him best, his State Is Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed And post o're Land and Ocean without rest: They also serve who only stand and waite.
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Birds in their little nest agree; and 'Tis a shameful sight, when children of one family fall out, and chide, and fight.
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I can give the loser leave to chide.
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'The cock doth craw, the day doth daw, The channerin worm doth chide;...
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The same reason that makes us chide and brawl and fall out with any of our neighbors, causeth a war to follow between Princes.
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