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In their perpetuall course.
Their essence and foundation lies,
And in their motions neuer dies:
Our life from them their source
Doth take, and vnto death should haue recourse,
And cease, if they should cease to mooue the skies.
They vse to paint her blinde,
Bicause the highest, and the lowe
She reares, and after downe doth throwe,
Respecting not the kinde
Of persons, nor the merits of the minde:
The King she doth not from the Collier knowe.
Fortune heerein they take
For agreat Goddesse (and with right)
For Goddesses doe not requite
With partiall hand, and makes
No difference of persons for their sakes,
And partially doe neuer vse their might.
They call her also mad,
Bicause her works they doe not knowe,
Nor any path, where she doth goe,
But all her waies so bad:
That to exempt themselues they would be glad
From them, for feare of their ensuing woe.
But such are made indeede,
That make a reason so vnfit,
For when did euer humane wit
Knowe what the Gods decreed?
Or how they meant with power to proceede,
Or their intents? which men could neuer hit.
It fitteth not my song
To deigne to answere with direction
Men of such wit and small perfection:
That offer her such wrong;
For Fortune doth onely to those belong
That haue the vse of reason and election.
The Ancient otherwise
Did thinke, for they did make of her
A Goddesse, and they did not erre:
To whom sweete sacrifice,
And temples in her name they did deuise:
As in their bookes they doe no lesse auerre.
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