Which, with heroique formes without o're-spread,
Within are nought but morter, flint and lead.
Man is a torch borne in the winde; a dreame
But of a shadow, summ'd with all his substance;
And as great seamen using all their wealth
And skills in Neptunes deepe invisible pathes,
In tall ships richly built and ribd with brasse,
To put a girdle round about the world,
When they have done it (comming neere their haven)
Are faine to give a warning peece, and call
A poore staid fisher-man, that never past
His countries sight, to waft and guide them in:
So when we wander furthest through the waves
Of glassie Glory, and the gulfes of State,
Topt with all titles, spreading all our reaches,
As if each private arme would sphere the earth,
Wee must to vertue for her guide resort,
Or wee shall shipwrack in our safest port.
_Procumbit._
[_Enter_] _Monsieur with two Pages._
[_Monsieur._] There is no second place in numerous state
That holds more than a cypher: in a King
All places are contain'd. His words and looks
Are like the flashes and the bolts of Jove;
His deeds inimitable, like the sea
That shuts still as it opes, and leaves no tracts,
Nor prints of president for meane mens facts:
There's but a thred betwixt me and a crowne;
I would not wish it cut, unlesse by nature;
Yet to prepare me for that possible fortune,
'Tis good to get resolved spirits about mee.
I follow'd D'Ambois to this greene retreat;
A man of spirit beyond the reach of feare,
Who (discontent with his neglected worth)
Neglects the light, and loves obscure abodes;
But hee is young and haughty, apt to take
Fire at advancement, to beare state, and flourish;
In his rise therefore shall my bounties shine:
None lothes the world so much, nor loves to scoffe it,
But gold and grace will make him surfet of it.
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