Patience is a kind of heavenly tenure, whereby the soul is held in
possession, and a sweet temper in the spirit, which restraineth nature
from exceeding reason in passion. Her hand keeps time in his right
course, and her eye passeth into the depth of understanding. She
attendeth wisdom in all her works, and proportioneth time to the
necessity of matter. She is the poison of sorrow in the hope of comfort,
and the paradise of conceit in the joy of peace. Her tongue speaks
seldom but to purpose, and her foot goeth slowly but surely. She is the
imitator of the Incomprehensible in His passage to perfection, and a
servant of His will in the map of His workmanship: in confusion she hath
no operation, while she only aireth her conceit with the consideration
of experience. She travels far and is never weary, and gives over no
work but to better a beginning. She makes the king merciful and the
subject loyal, honour gracious and wisdom glorious. She pacifieth wrath
and puts off revenge, and in the humility of charity shows the nature of
grace. She is beloved of the highest and embraced of the wisest,
honoured with the worthiest and graced with the best. She makes
imprisonment liberty when the mind goeth through the world, and in
sickness finds health where death is the way to life. She is an enemy to
passion, and knows no purgatory; thinks fortune a fiction, and builds
only upon providence. She is the sick man's salve and the whole man's
preserver, the wise man's staff and the good man's guide. In sum, not to
wade too far in her worthiness, lest I be drowned in the depth of
wonder, I will thus end in her endless honour:--She is the grace of
Christ and the virtue of Christianity, the praise of goodness and the
preserver of the world.