Wheresoe’er I turn my view,
All is strange, yet nothing new;
Endless labour all along,
Endless labour to be wrong;
Phrase that Time has flung away,
Uncouth words in disarray:
Trickt in antique ruff and bonnet,
Ode and elegy and sonnet.
“What is the world? tell, Worldling (if thou know it).
If it be good, why do all ills o’erflow it?
If it be bad, why dost thou like it so?
If it be sweet, how come sit bitter then?
If it be bitter, what bewitcheth men?
If it be friend, why kills it (as a foe)
Vain-minded men that over-love and lust it?
If it be foe, Fondling, how dar’st thou trust it?”
Joshua Sylvester | “Mundus Qualis”