Tis not enough to help the feeble up, But to support him after
Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more 'twill be eleven; And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot; And thereby hangs a tale
Tis all men's office to speak patience To those that wring under the load of sorrow; But no man's virtue nor sufficiency To be so moral when he shall endure The like himself
In the corrupted currents of this word offence's gilded hand may solve by justice, and oft, tis seen the wicked prize itself buys out the law: but 'tis not so above; There is no shuffling, there the action lies in his true nature; And we ourselves