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Curs’d be that wretch (Death’s factor sure) who brought Dire swords into the peaceful world, and taught Smiths (who before could only make.

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Fill all the Glasses there; for why Should every Creature Drink but I? Why, Man of Morals, tell me why?
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Creature Drink Every Glass Man Moral Tell
Sleep is a god too proud to wait in palaces, and yet so humble too as not to scorn the meanest country cottages.
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Cottage Country Humble Meanest Palace Proud Scorn Sleep
This a scene of changes, and to be constant in Nature were inconstancy.
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Change Constant Nature Scene
Acquaintance I would have, but when it depends; not on number, but the choice of friends.
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Acquaintance Choice Depend Friendship Number
What a brave privilege is it to be free from all contentions, from all envying or being envied, from receiving or paying all kinds of ceremonies!
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Brave Envied Fee Paying Receiving Solitude
I confess I love littleness almost in all things. A little convenient estate, a little cheerful house, a little company, and a little feast.
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Cheerful Company Confess Convenient Estate House Little
Poets by Death are conquer’d but the wit Of poets triumphs over it.
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Conquer Death Over Poet Triumph
The Sunflow’r, thinking ’twas for him foul shame To nap by daylight, strove t’ excuse the blame
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Blame Excuse Made Nap Shame Sleep Strove Sunflow Thinking
Why dost thou build up stately rooms on high, Thou who art under ground to lie? Thou sow’st and plantest, but no fruit must see, For death, alas! is reaping thee.
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Build Fruit Ground m Strategy Plantest Under
The motions strait, and round, and swift, and slow, And short and long, were mixt and woven so, Did in such artful Figures smoothly fall, As made this decent measur’d dance of all. And this is Musick.
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Artful Figure Mixt Motion Slow Strait Swift Woven
To be a husbandman, is but a retreat from the city; to be a philosopher, from the world; or rather, a retreat from the world, as it is man’s, into the world, as it is God’s.
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City Husbandman Man Philosopher Retreat World
And I myself a Catholic will be, So far at least, great saint, to pray to thee. Hail, Bard triumphant! and some care bestow On us, the Poets militant below.
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Best Care Catholic Great Now Religion Saint Triumphant
Life is an incurable disease.
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Disease Incurable Life Success
Vain, weak-built isthmus, which dost proudly rise Up between two eternities!
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Build Eternity Isthmus Life Proudly Two
The world’s a scene of changes.
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Change Nature Scene World
Curiosity does, no less than devotion, pilgrims make.
ABRAHAM COWLEY

Curiosity Devotion Doe Less Pilgrim

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