The temple Sacred poems and private ejaculations. By Mr. George Herbert.

¶ Dotage.

FAlse glozing pleasures, casks of happinesse, Foolish night-fires, womens and childrens wishes, Chases in Arras, guilded emptinesse, Shadows well mounted, dreams in a career, Embroider'd lyes, nothing between two dishes; These are the pleasures here. True earnest sorrows, rooted miseries, Anguish in grain, vexations ripe and blown, Sure-footed griefs, solid calamities, Plain demonstrations, evident and cleare, Fetching their proofs ev'n from the very bone; These are the sorrows here.

But oh the folly of distracted men, Who griefs in earnest, joyes in jest pursue; Preferring, like brute beasts, a lothsome den Before a court, ev'n that above so cleare, Where are no sorrows, but delights more true, Then miseries are here!