Sonnet. To Patience

Down stormy passions, down; no more Let your rude waves invade the shore Where blushing reason sits and hides Her from the fury of your tides. Fit onely 'tis where you bear sway That Fools or Franticks do obey; Since judgment, if it not resists, Will lose it self in your blind mists. Fall easie Patience, fall like rest Whose soft spells charm a troubled breast: And where those Rebels you espy, O in your silken cordage tie Their malice up! so shall I raise Altars to thank your power, and praise The soveraign vertue of your Balm, Which cures a Tempest by a Calm.