XC. A. W.

ETERNALL Time, that wastest without wast,

That art, and art not—diest, and liuest still;

Most slow of all, and yet of greatest hast;

Both ill and good, and neither good nor ill:

How can I iustly praise thee or dispraise?

Darke are thy nights, but bright and cleare thy daies.

Both free and scarce, thou giu’st and tak’st againe;

Thy wombe, that all doth breede, is tombe to all:

Whatso by thee hath life, by thee is slaine;

From thee do all things rise, to thee they fall:

Constant, inconstant; mouing, standing still:

Was, is, shall be, doe thee both breede and kill.

I lose thee, while I seek to find thee out;

The farther off, the more I follow thee;

The faster hold, the greater cause of doubt;

Was, is, I know; but shall I cannot see:

All things by thee are measured, thou by none;

All are in thee, thou in thy selfe alone.