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                                      1645                                  
                                                                            
                              ANOTHER ON THE SAME                           
                                                                            
                                 by John Milton                             
                                                                            
                                                                            
                                                                            
                                                                            
                                                                            
                                                                            
                                                                            
                                                                            
                                                                            
                                                                            
                                                                            
ANOTHER_ON_THE_SAME                                                         
               Another on the Same                                          
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  Here lieth one who did most truly prove,                                  
  That he could never die while he could move,                              
  So hung his destiny never to rot                                          
  While he might still jogg on, and keep his trot,                          
  Made of sphear-metal, never to decay                                      
  Untill his revolution was at stay.                                        
  Time numbers motion, yet (without a crime                                 
  'Gainst old truth) motion number'd out his time:                          
  And like an Engin mov'd with wheel and waight,                            
  His principles being ceast, he ended strait.                              
  Rest that gives all men life, gave him his death,                         
  And too much breathing put him out of breath;                             
  Nor were it contradiction to affirm                                       
  Too long vacation hastned on his term.                                    
  Meerly to drive the time away he sickn'd,                                 
  Fainted, and died, nor would with Ale be quickn'd;                        
  Nay, quoth he, on his swooning bed out-stretch'd,                         
  If I may not carry, sure Ile ne're be fetch'd,                            
  But vow though the cross Doctors all stood hearers,                       
  For one Carrier put down to make six bearers.                             
  Ease was his chief disease, and to judge right,                           
  He di'd for heavines that his Cart went light,                            
  His leasure told him that his time was com,                               
  And lack of load, made his life burdensom,                                
  That even to his last breath (ther be that say't)                         
  As he were prest to death, he cry'd more waight;                          
  But had his doings lasted as they were,                                   
  He had bin an immortall Carrier.                                          
  Obedient to the Moon he spent his date                                    
  In cours reciprocal, and had his fate                                     
  Linkt to the mutual flowing of the Seas,                                  
  Yet (strange to think) his wain was his increase:                         
  His Letters are deliver'd all and gon,                                    
  Onely remains this superscription.                                        
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                -THE END-