If we could see below The sphere of vertue, and each shining grace, As plainly as that above doth show; This were the better skie, the brighter place. God hath made starres the foil To set off vertues; griefs to set off sinning: Yet in this wretched world we toil, As if grief were not foul, nor vertue winning.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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