Some Folkes there are,
(and many men suppose, that I my selfe,
may passe for one of those)
Who many likely Businesses intend,
Yet, bring but very few, unto an end.
Which folly to prevent, this Emblem here,
Did in a luckie houre, perhaps, appeare.
For, as to draw a Circle, with our hand,
We cause the brazen Compasses to stand
With one foot firmely fixed one the ground;
And move the other in a Constant-Round.
Right so, when we shall purpose to proceed
In any just, and profitable deed,
We first, should by a constant resolution,
Stand firme, to what we put in execution:
And, then, with perseverance, labour out
Those workings, which we are employ'd about.
For, we with constant liking, must elect
Those Businesses, we purpose to effect:
Or els, our time, our labour, and our cost,
Will, oft, be much in vaine, or wholly lost.
With constant labour, we must follow, too,
Those things, which we resolved are to do;
Or, els, our hopes will never be effected,
How warily soe're we have projected.
Long Journeys I abhorre; yet, otherwhile
I meane a Furlong, and performe a Mile.
I greatly feare Long labours to begin;
Yet, some I finish, when I'me entred in:
And, if in Labour, I more constant grow,
How I improve, hereafter you shall know.
Last modified: Fri Sep 11 23:28:15 CEST 2015