(Set on a clock case)

Fly envious Time till thou run out thy race
call on the lazie leaden-stepping howres
whose speed is but the heavie plummets pace
& glut thy selfe wth what thy womb devoures
Wch is no more then what is false & vaine
& meerly mortall drosse
so little is our losse
so little is thy gaine
for when as each thing bad thou hast entomb'd
& last of all thy greedie selfe consum'd 10
then long Aeternity shall greet our blisse
wth an individuall kisse
and Joy shall overtake us as a flood
when every thing yt is sincerely good
& pfectly divine
with Truth, & Peace, & Love shall ever shine
about the supreme throne
of him t' whose happy-making sight alone
when once our heav'nly-guided soule shall clime
then all this earthie grossnesse quit 20
attir'd wth starres wee shall for ever sit
Triumphing over Death, & Chance, & thee O Time.