Exesse we loath, of want we most complaine

EXESSE we loath, of want we most complaine,
The golden meane we prooue to be the best,
Let idle fits refresh thy daylie paine,
And with some Labour exercise thy rest,
For overmuch of either, duls the spright,
And robs our life, of comfort and delight.

If that thou wouldst acquaint thee with the Muse,
Withdraw thy selfe, and be thou least alone,
Even when alone, as SOLON oft did vse,
For no such frend to Contemplation,
And our sweete studies, as the private life,
Remote from Citie, and the vulgar strife.