That mens Deuotions towards God and Goodnesse, are most mutable

NOught in our Life endures so many Turnes,
as our Deuotion; off, on, in, and out;
Now, cold as Yce, and by and by It burnes,
scarse in one moode, while we can turne about.

If good we heare, perhaps we thinke thereon;
but be it ill, ill (past perhaps) we minde:
Thus, rowle we euer, like a thriftlesse stone,
till Death vs stay by force, or Course of kinde.

From Sinne to Sinne, as Flies from sore to sore,
we still doe shift; the best Men, Men are still;
The worst are worse than Beasts, to kill, or store;
for, they are leaue in good, but fat in ill:
Then blest are they, that neyther fat nor leaue,
Haue rowl'd to Rest, but with the Golden-meane.