O Who will show me those delights on high?
Echo: I.
Thou Echo, thou art mortall, all men know.
Echo: No.
Wert thou not born among the trees and leaves?
Echo: Leaves.
And are there any leaves, that still abide?
Echo: Bide.
What leaves are they? impart the matter wholly.
Echo: Holy.
Are holy leaves the Echo then of blisse?
Echo: Yes.
Then tell me, what is that supreme delight?
Echo: Light.
Light to the minde: what shall the will enjoy?
Echo: Joy.
But are there cares and businesse with the pleasure?
Echo: Leisure.
Light, joy, and leisure; but shall they persever?
Echo: Ever.
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