Page:The heptalogia, or, The seven against sense - a cap with seven bells (IA heptalogiaorseve00swin).pdf/38

 Stop life's ball then!" Such folly! melt earth down for that, Till the pure ore eludes you and leaves you raw scoriæ? Pish, the vein's wrong!' But you, friends—come, what were you at When God spat you out suddenly? what was the story He Cut short thus, the growth He laid flat?

Wait! the crab's twice alive, mark! Oh, worthy, your soul, Of strange ends, great results, novel labours! Take note,