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 ECAUSE: our life is but a little thing, Eecause the world is large, and we are small, The misery of man is great on him, And one event still happeneth to all. Of making many books there is no end, Much study still to weariness doth come ; But they who study not do brutish grow, — Man was not given language to be dumb. Because there is that neither night nor day Gives sleep unto his eyelids, nor takes rest, Some seeds of truth about the world do float, And here and there take root in some man's breast.