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