If there be nothing new,but that which is
Hath been before,how are our brains beguil'd,
Which labouring for invention bear amiss
The second burthen of a former child!
O!that record could with a backward look,
Even of five hundred courses of the sun,
Show me your image in some antique book,
Since mind at first in character was done!
That I might see what the old world could say
To this composed wonder of your frame;
Whether we are mended,or where better they,
Or whether revolution be the same.
O! sure I am the wits of former days,
To subjects worse have given admiring praise.