When I would pray and think, I think and pray
To several subjects. Heaven hath my empty words;
Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue,
Heaven in my mouth,
As if I did but only chew his name;
And in my heart the strong and swelling evil
The state, whereon I studied
Is like a good thing, being often read,
Grown fear'd and tedious;
Wherein--let no man hear me--I take pride,
Could I with boot change for an idle plume,
Which the air beats for vain.
How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit,
Wrench awe from fools and tie the wiser souls
To thy false seeming! Blood, thou art blood:
Let's write good angel on the devil's horn:
'Tis not the devil's crest.
