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When at the last deluge,

The great men not for nought, Men by Deucalion once

Doe seeke the people's love: Were made againe of stones;

Their deeds that to approve, And well this wicked race

They may their mindes allure: Bewrayes a stony kinde,

But Perdiccas is thought, Which beares a stubborne minde,

Too slowly to have sought Still hardned unto sinne.

Their doubtfull mindes to move, Loe, now in every place

As one who still conceits All vertuous motions cease,

He may command the fates; And sacred faith we finde,

His pride so great is growne, Farte from the earth is fled,

That none can it endure; Whose flight huge mischiefe bred,

Yet stands bis state unsure, And filles the world with warres,

Since odious to his owne: Whilst impious brests begin

“ He must be once orethrowne, To let base treason in :

Whose humour each man hates, Which common concord marres,

Pride doth her followers all
Whilst all men live at jarres,

Lead head-longs to a fall."
And nets of fraud doe spreade,
The simple to surprise,
Too witty, but not wise;
Yet those who in deceit

CHORUS FOURTH.
'Their confidence repose,
A thing more deare doe lose.

Ah, ah ! though man the image of great love, Then can by gujle be gain'd;

And, th' onely creature that gives Reason place, Which when repented late,

With reverence due unto the powres above, May ruine once their state,

His beavenly progeny should seeke to prove, Whilst parer sprites disclose

By still resembling the inmortall kinde; With what their breasts are stor'd;

Yet makes the world our better part so blinde, For, though they would remord,

That we the clouds of vanity imbrace, They get not trust againe ;

And from our first excellency decline; But, having honour stain'd,

This doth distinguish that celestiall grace, [love, And covenants prophan'd,

Which should make soules to burne with vertue's Are held in high disdaine,

Whose fancies vice luxuriously now feasts; “ And doe in end remaine,

- Vice is the Circe that enchants the minde, Of all the world abhorrd;

And doth transforme her followers all in swine; Not trusty when they should,

Whil'st poyson'd pleasures so corrupt our tastes, Not trusted when they would :"

That of halfe-gods, we make our selves wholeBut ah! our nobles now,

And yet of ruthlesse Pluto's raging host, [beasts :" Loe, like Lysander still,

The vice which doth transport presumptuous hearts, So that they get their will,

And makes men from the gods to differ most, Regard not by what way,

Is cruelty, that to the sufferer's cost, And with a shamelesse brow,

And actor's both, is often-times appeas'd: Doe of the end allow,

The gods delight to give, and to forgive, Even though the meanes were ill;

By pardoning, and not by plagueing pleas'd; Which all the world may see,

And why should men excogitate strange arts, Disgraceth their degree,

To show their tyranny, as those who strive Who (changing every houre)

To feed on mischiefe, though the author smarts, Doe all base slights assay;

Oft for the deed of wbich himselfe did boast, What can brave mindes dismay,

Whilst whence the blow first came, the griefe doth Whose worth is like a tower,

turne? Against all fortune's pow'r,

“ For, that by which the minde at first was eas'd, Still from all fraud whilst free?

May it in th' end the greatest burden give; “ These keepe their course unknowne,

Oft those whose cruelty makes many mourne, Whom it would blame if showne:”

Do by the fires which they first kindled burne; Who not from worth digresse,

Of other tyrants which oppresse the minde, To slights which feare imparts,

With pleasure some delight it, in such sort Doe show heroicke hearts,

That first the hony, then the gall we finde; The which would rather farre

And others (though from bonor's court declin'd) An open hate professe,

Some comfort yeeld (but base) by hope of gaine; Then basely it suppresse :

And, though some make us to be loath'd of one, “ No glory comes from fearefull arts:" We by their meanes another's love obtairic; But those who doe us lead,

But cruelty, with which none can comport, As for dissembling made,

Makes th' authors hated when the deed is done, Even though that they intend

Oft even by those whom it did most support, Amongst themselves to warre,

As that which alienates men from their kinde; Seeme in no sort to jarre,

And as humanity the minde enchaunts, But friendship doe pretend,

So barbarous soules which from the same refraine, Not like their lord now dead,

More fierce than savage beasts, are lov'd of none: Who trusting to his worth,

Since with such beasts one with lesse danger haunts, Still what he meant spake forth;

Then with the man whose minde all mercy wants;" VOI. V.

Pf

Yet though the minde of man, as strong, and rude, Though by the multitude they be admir'd,
Be ravish'd oft with violent desire,

That still to pow'r doth show it selfe submisse;
And must, if fir'd with rage, be quench'd with bloud, | Yet by the soule still further is requird,
How can this tender sexe, whose glory stood Which should seale up th’accomplishment of joy;
In having hearts inclin'd to pity, still

“ Thus partiall judgements blindely ayme amisse, It selfe delight in any barbarous deed?

At things which stand without our reach retird, For, Nature seemes in this to use her skill,

Which whilst not ours, as treasures we define, In making womens' mindes (though weake) entire, But not the same whilst we the same enjoy; That weaknesse might, love, and devotion breed; Some things a farre doe like the glow-worme sbine, To which their thoughts (if pure) might best aspire, which look't too neere, have of that light no signe. As aptest for th' impressions of all good, But from the best to worst all things do weare;

No charge on th' Earth more weighty to discharge, Since cruelties from feeble mindes proceed, (feare o! those who manage must the reynes of state,

Then that which of a kingdome doth dispose: “ In breasts where courage failes, spite, shame and Make envy, hate, and rigour rule to beare.”

Till their pale ghost imbarke in Charon's barge, Our queene Olympias, who was once so great,

They never need t attend a true repose: And did such monstrous cruelties commit,

How hard is it to please each man's conceit, In plaguing Philip, and his queene of late,

When gaining one, they must another lose? Loe, now brought low to taste the like estate,

Thus, hardly kings themselves can evenly beare, Must take such entertainment as she gave,

Whom if severe (as cruell) subjects hate; And yet good reason that it should be so,

Contempt dare to the milde it selfe oppose; “ Such measure as we give, we must receive."

Who spare in time, as niggards are despis'd, Whil'st on a throne she proudly earst did sit,

Men from too franke a minde, exactions feare, And with disdainefull eyes look'd on her foe,

Though in all shapes (as Proteus us'd) disguis'd, As onely vanquish'd by her pow'r, and wit,

Kings by some scandall alwaies are surpris'd.” She did not weigh what doth proceed from fate: Yet one might well with every thing comport, 0,0! th’immortals which command above, Which on opinion onely doth depend, Of every state in hand the rudder have,

If further danger follow'd not by deeds, And as they like, can make us stay or go;

But every monarch (loe) in many a sort “ The griefe of others should us greatly move, Death (laid in ambush) alwaies doth attend; As those who sometime may like fortune prove; Of some by mutnous swords the life forth bleeds; But as experience with rare proofes hath showne, By unsuspected poyson others end, To look on others, we have linx-his eyes,

Which whilst they alwaies labour to prevent, Whil'st we would bave their imperfections knowne; A thousand deaths within their breasts life breeds; Yet (like blinde moles) can never marke our owne. Loe, this is all for which the great contend, Such clouds of selfe-regard do dimme our sight; Who, (whilst their pride themselves and others Why should we be puff'd up when foes do fall?

spoiles) Since what to day doth on another light,

With their dominions doe their cares augment: The same to morrow may our state surprise. “ And O vaine man who toyl'st to double toyles, Those that on this inconstant constant ball

Though still the victory the victor foiles :"
Do live envirou'd with th' all-circling skies,
Have many meanes whereby to be ore-throwne :

Thus Alexander could not be appeas'd,
And why should dying worldlings swolne with wrath, Which when made most, diminish'd most remain'd,

Whilst he to raise his state did wayes prepare, So tyrannize ore an afficted wight, Since miseries are common unto all ?

Where (with his father's bounds had he beene Let none be proud who draw a doubtfull breath,

pleas'd) Good hap attends but few, unto their death."

He might have left our crowne sure to his heire,
Who by his conquest nought but death hath gaya'd;
Yet for no paines a number now doth spare,

To worke for that by which his wreake was wrought,
CHORUS FIFTH.

Which (though from it they rage to be restrain'd) " What damned furies thus tosse mortals' mindes,

Would (if possest) their pleasures but impaire: With such a violent desire to raigne ?

Yet they by harme of others seeke the thing That neither honour, friendship, duty, bloud,

Which by their harme of others will be sought:

To him and his, each of them death would bring, Nor yet no band so sacred is as bindes Ambitious thoughts which would a kingdome gaine:

That it might once be said he was a king. But all is buried in blacke Lethe's floud,

We may securely sitting on the shore, That may the course of soveraignty restraine, Whilst great men doe (as toss'd on th' ocean) grone, Which from the brest doth all respects repell, Taught by their toyles, esteeme much of our rest: And like a torrent cannot be gaine-stood:

For this doth thousands with affliction store, Yea mariy would, a scepter to obtaine,

Which of the world as most unhappy moane, In spite of all the world, and love's owne wrath, If they but chance to view some few more blest, March through the lowest dungeons of the Hels, Where if they would but marke, how many a one And from a diademe would breath with pow'r, More wretch'd then they in misery doth live, Though all death's engines brag'd them every houre,” It straight would calme the most unquiet brest;

The cottage oft is happier then the throne; Yet, though such restlesse mindes attaine in th’end To thinke our owne state good, and others' ill, The height to which their haughty hearts aspir'd, It could not but a great contentment give: They never can embrace that dreamed blisse, There much consists in the conceit and will: Which their deluded thoughts did apprehend ; To us all things are as we thinke them still."

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“ All selfe-accusing soules no rest can finde, CHORUSES

What greater torment then a troubled minde ?”
IN JULIUS CÆSAR.

Let us adore th' immortall powers,
On whose decree, of all that ends,
The state depends,

That (farre from barbarous broiles)
CHORUS FIRST.

We of our life this little space « We should be loath to grieve the gods,

May spend in peace, Who hold us in a ballance still;

Free from affliction's showres; And as they will

Or at the least from guilty toyles; May weigh us up, or downe;

“ Let us of rest the treasure strive to gaine, Those who by folly foster pride,

Without the which nought can be had but paine." And do deride The terrour of the thunderer's rods, In seas of sinpe their soules do drowne,

CHORUS SECOND. And others them abhorre as most unjust,

- Tais life of ours is like a rose, Who want religion do deserve no trust :"

Which whilst rare beauties it array, How dare fraile fesh presume to rise

Doth then enjoy the least repose; (Whil'st it deserves Heaven's wrath to prove) When virgin-like made blush (we see) On th' Earth to move,

Of every hand it is the prey, Lest that it opening straight,

And by each winde is blowne away; Give death and buriall both at once ?

Yea, though from violence scap'd free, How dare such ones

(Thus time triumphs, and leades all thrals) Look up unto the skies,

Yet doth it languish and decay: For feare to feele the thunderer's weight?

0! whilst the courage hottest boiles, “ All th' elements their Maker's will attend,

And that our life seemes best to be, As prompt to plague, as men are to offend.” It is with dangers compast still ;

Whilst it each little change appalles, All must be plagu'd who God displease,

The body, force without oft foiles, Then whil'st he Bacchus rites did scorne,

It th’ owne distemp'rature oft spoiles, Was Pentheus torne ;

And even, though none it chance to kill, The Delian's high disdaine

As nature failes, the body falles, Made Niobe (though turn'd a stone)

Of which save death, nought bounds the toyles : With teares still mone,

What is this moving tow'r in which we trust? And (Pallas to appease)

A little winde clos'd in a cloud of dust."
Arachne weaves loath'd webbes in vaine :
Heaven hath prepard ere ever they begin,

And yet some sprites though being pent
A fall for pride, a punishment for sinne.

In this fraile prison's narrow bounds,

(Whilst what might serve, doth not content) Loe, luno yet doth still retaine

Doe alwaies bend their thoughts too high, That indignation once conceiv'd,

And ayme at all the peopled grounds; For wrong receiv'd

Then whilst their brests ambition wounds, From Paris as we finde ;

They feed as fearing straight to dye, And for his cause (bent to disgrace

Yet build as if they still might live, The Trojan race)

Whilst famish'd for fame's empty sounds : Doth hold a high disdaine,

Of such no end the travell ends, Long layd up in a loftie minde:

But a beginning gives, whereby “ We should abstaine from irritating those They may be vex'd worse then before ; Whose thoughts (if wrong'd)not till reveng'd repose.” For, whilst they still new hopes contrive,

“ The hoped good more anguish sends, Thus, thus for Paris' fond desire,

Then the possess'd contentment lends;" Who of his pleasures had no part,

As beasts not taste, but doe devoure, For them must smart:

They swallow much, and for more strive, Such be the fruits of lust;

Whilst still their hope some change attends : Can beavenly breasts so long time lodge

“ And how can such but still themselves annoy, A secret grudge?

Who can acquire, but know not how t' enjoy ?" Like mortals thrall to yre, Till justice sometime seemes unjust?

Since as a ship amidst the deepes, " Of all the furies which afflict the soule,

Or as an eagle through the ayre, Lust and revenge are hardest to controull:”

Of which no way th' impression keepes,

Most swift when seeming least to move: The gods give them but rarely rest,

This breath of which we take such care, Who do against their will contend,

Doth tosse the body every where, And plagues do spend,

That it may hence with haste remove : That fortunate in nought,

“ Life slips and sleepes alwayes away, Their sprits (quite parted from repose)

Then hence, and as it came, goes bare," May still expose

Whose steppes behinde no trace doe leave: The stormy troubled brest

Why should Heaven-banish'd soules thus love A prey to each tyrannicke thought:

The cause, and bounds of their exile,

As restlesse strangers where they stray?

Yet should we not mispending houres,
And with such paine why should they reave A freedome seeke, as oft it falls,
That which they have no right to have,

With an intent
Which with them in a little while,

But to content
As summer's beauties, must decay,

These vaine delights, and appetites of ours;
And can give yought except the grave? [can, For, then but made farre greater thralls,
“ Though all things doe to harme him what they we might repent
No greater enemie then himselfe to man."

As not still pent

In stricter bounds by others' pow'rs, Whilst oft environ'd with his foes,

Whil'st feare licentious thoughts appalls: Which threatned death on every side,

“Of all the tyrants that the world affords, Great Cæsar parted from repose

One's owne affections are the fiercest lords." (As Atlas holding up the starres) Did of a world the weight abide;

As libertines those onely live, But since a prey to foolish pride,

Who (from the bands of vice set free) More then by all the former warres,

Vile thoughts cancell, He now by it doth harm'd remaine,

And would excell And of his fortune doth diffide:

In all that doth true glory give, Made rich by many nations' wreake,

From which when as no tyrants be He (breaking through the liquid barres)

Them to repell, In Neptune's armes his minion forc'd;

And to compell Yet still pursu'd new hopes in vaine:

Their deeds against their thoughts to strive, “ Would the ambitious looking backe

They blest are in a high degree: Of their inferiours knowledge take,

" For, such of fame the scrouls can hardly fill, They from huge cares might be divorc'd,

Whose wit is bounded by another's will."
Whilst viewing few, more pow'r attaine,
And many more then they to lacke:

Our ancestors of old such prov'd,
The onely plague from men that rest doth reave,

(Who Rome from Tarquine's yoke redeem'd) Is that they weigh their wants, not what they have." They first obtain'd,

And then maintain'd Since thus the great themselves involve

Their liberty so dearly lov'd; In such a labyrinth of cares,

They from all things which odious seem'd Whence none to scape can well resolve,

(Though not constrain’d) But by degrees are forward led,

Themselves restrain'd, Through waves of hopes, rockes of despaires:

And willingly all good approv'd, Let us avoyd ambition's snares,

Bent to be much, yet well esteem'd ; And farre from stormes by envy bred,

“ And how could such but ayme at some great errd, Still seeke (though low) a quiet rest,

Whom liberty did leade, glory attend ?"
With mindes where no proud thought repaires,
That in vaine shadowes doth delight;

They leading valorous legions forth,
Thus may our fancies still be fed

(Though wanting kings) triumph'd ore kings, With that which Nature freely gives;

And still aspird, Let us iniquity detest,

By Mars inspir'd, And hold but what we owe of right;

To conquer all from south to north; Th' eye's treasure is th' all-circling light,

Then lending fame their eagle's wings, Not that vaine pompe for which pride strives,

They all acquir'd Whose glory (but a poysnous pest)

That was requir'd,

To make them re for rarest things, To plague the soule, delights the sight :

The world made witnesse of their worth: “ Ease comes with ease, where all by paine buy Thus those great mindes who domineer'd ore all,

paine,
Rest we in peace, by warre let others raigne.”

Did make themselves first free, then others thrall,
But we who hold nought but their name,
From that to which they in times gone
Did high ascend,

Must low descend,
CHORUS THIRD.

And bound their glory with our shame,

Whil'st on an abject tyrant's throne, Then liberty, of earthly things

We (base) attend, What more delights a generous brest?

And do intend Which doth receive,

Us for our fortune still to frame, And can conceive

Not it for us, and all for one: The matchlesse treasure that it brings;

As liberty a courage doth impart, It making men securely rest,

So bondage doth disbend, else breake the heart," As all perceive, Doth none deceive,

Yet, O! who knows but Rome to grace Whil'st from the same true courage springs, Another Brutus may arise ? But fear'd for nought, doth what seemes best: Who may effect “ Then men are men, when they are all their What we affect, owne,

And Tarquine's steps make Cæsar trace; Not, but by others' badges when made knowne:" Though seeming dangers to despise

He doth suspect

“Are not those wretch'd,who, ore a dangerous snare What we expect

Do hang by hopes, wbilst ballanc'd in the ayre;' Which from his breast hath banish'd peace, Though fairely he his feares disguise :

Then when they have the port attain'd, * Of tyrants even the wrong, revenge affords,

Which was through seas of dangers sought,
All feare buttheirs, and they feare all men's swords." They (loe) at last but losse have gain'd,

And by great trouble, trouble bought:
Their mindes are married still with feares,

To bring forth many a jealous thought;
CHORUS FOURTH.

With searching eyes, and watchiny eares,
What fury thus doth fill the brest

To learne that which it grieves to know : With a prodigious rash desire,

The brest that such a burden beares, Which banishing their soules from rest,

What huge afflictions doe orethrow? Doth make them live who high aspire,

Thus, each prince is (as all perceive) (Whilst it within their bosome boyles)

No more exalted then brought low, As salamanders in the fire;

“ Of many, lord, of many, slave; Or like to serpents changing spoyles,

That idoll greatnesse which th' Earth doth adore, Their wither'd beauties to renew?

Is gotten with great paine, and kept with more:” Like vipers with unnaturall toyles,

He who to this imagin'd good, Of such the thoughts themselves pursnie,

Did through bis countrie's bowels tend, Who for all lines their lives doe square,

Neglecting friendship, duty, bloud, Whilst like camelions changing hue,

And all on which trust can depend, They onely feed on empty ayre:

Or by which love could be conceiv'd, “ To passe ambition greatest matters brings, Doth finde of what he did attend, And (save contentment) can attaine all things.” His expectations farre deceiv'd;

For, since suspecting secret snares, 'This active passion doth disdaine

His soule hath still of rest beene reavid,
To match with any vulgar minde,
As in base breasts where terrours raigne,

Whilst squadrons of tumultuous cares,

Forth from his brest extort deep grones :
Too great a guest to be confin'd;
It doth but lofty thoughts frequent,

Thus Cæsar now of life despaires,
Where it a spatious field may finde,

Whose lot his hope exceeded once; It selfe with honour to content,

And who can long well keep an ill wonne state? Where reverenc'd fame doth lowdest sound;

“ Those perish must by some whom ali men hate." Those for great things by courage bent, (Farre lifted from this lumpish round) Would in the sphere of glory move,

CHORUS FIFTH.
Whilst lofty thoughts which nought can binde,
All rivals live in vertue's love;

What fools are those who do repose their trust « On abject preyes as th' eagles never light, On what this masse of misery affords? Ambition poysons but the greatest sprite.” And (bragging but of th' excrements of dust)

Of life-lesse treasures labour to be lords: And of this restlesse vulture's brood,

Which like the Sirens' songs, or Circe's charmes, (If not become too great a flame)

With shadows of deligbls hide certaine harmes. A little sparke doth sometime good, Which makes great mindes (affecting fame)

Ah! whilst they sport on pleasure's ycie grounds, To suffer still all kinde of paine:

Oft poyson'd by prosperitie with pride, Their fortune at the bloudy game,

A sudden storme their foting joyes confounds, Who hazard would for hope of gaine,

Whose course is ordred by the eye-lesse guide, Vnlesse first burn'd by thirst of praise ?

Who so inconstantly her selfe doth beare The learned to a higher straine,

Th' unhappie men may hope, the happy feare. Their wits by emulation raise, As those who hold applauses deare;

The fortunate who bathe in fouds of joyes, And what great minde at which men gaze,

To perish oft amidst their pleasures chance,

And mirthlesse wretches wallowing in annoyes, It selfe can of ambition cleare, Which is when valu'd at the highest price,

Oft by adversitie themselves advance;

Whil'st Fortune bent to mock vaine worldlings cares, A generous errour, an heroicke vice?

Doth change despaires in hopes, hopes in despaires. But when this frenzie, flaming bright,

That gallant Grecian whose great wit so soone, Doth so the soules of some surprise,

Whom others could not number, did ore-come, That they can taste of no delight,

Had he not beene undone, had beene undone, But what from soveraignty doth rise,

And if not banish'd, had not had a home;
Then, huge affliction it affords;
Such must (themselves so to disguise)

To him feare courage gave (what wondrous change!)

And many doubts a resolution strange.
Prove prodigall of courteous words,
Give much to some, and promise all,

He who told one who then was Fortune's childe, Then humble seeme to be made lords,

As if with horrour to congeale his bloud : Yea, being thus to many thrall,

That Caius Marius farre from Rome exil'd, Must words impart, if not support;

Wretch'd on the ruines of great Carthage stood ; To those who crush'd by fortune fall;

Though long both plagu'd by griefe, and by disgrace, And grieve themselves to please each sort: The consul-ship regain'd, and dy'd in peace.

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