They who themselves too much esteeme,
And vainely vilipend their foe,
Oft finde not fortune as they deeme,
And with their treasure would redeeme
Their errour past; behold even so
Our king of blame doth worthy seeme,
His adversary who did scorne

And thought who in his name did goe,
The laurell should have worne,
His triumphs to adorne,

But he with shame hath shorne The fruits of folly ever ripe with woe: "An enemy (if it be well advis'd) "(Though seeming weake) should never be despis'd."

But what? the minions of our kings
Who speake at large, and are beleev'd,
Dare brag of many mighty things,
As they could flye, though wanting wings,
And deeds by words might be atchiev'd;
But time at length their lies to light,
Their soveraigne to confusion brings:
Yet so they gaine, they are not griev'd,
But charme their princes' sight,
And make what 's wrong, seeme right,
Thus ruine they his might:

That when he would, he cannot be reliev'd,
"Moe kings in chambers fall by flatteries char
Then in the field by th' adversaries armes."

Loe, though the successe hath approv'd
What Charidemus had fore-showne,
Yet with his words no man was mov'd,

ad if it fortune that they dye in peace,
wonder wondrous rarely seene)

ho conquer first, Heavens finde a meane
› raze their empire, and oft-times their race,
ho comming to the crowne with rest,

nd having all in peace possest,

o straight forget what bloudy broyles have beene, re first their fathers could attaine that place; As seas do flow and ebbe, states rise and fall, nd princes when their actions prosper best, or feare their greatnesse should oppresse the small, s of some hated, envied are of all."

Ve know what end the mighty Cyrus made, Thom whilst he striv'd to conquer still, woman (justly griev'd) did kill, nd in a bloudy vessell roll'd his head, hen said, (whil'st many wondring stood) Since thou didst famish for such food, ow quench thy thirst of bloud with bloud at will;" ome who succeeded him, since he was dead, lave raign'd a space with pompe, and yet with paine, Vhose glory now can do to us no good; and what so long they labour'd to obtaine, all in an instant must be lost againe.

oe, Darius once so magnified by fame, By one whom he contemn'd ore-come, or all his bravery now made dombe, With down-cast eyes must signifie his shame; Who puft up with ostentive pride, hinke Fortune bound to serve their side, Can never scape, to be the prey of some;.

Such spend their prosp'rous dayes, as in a dreame
And as it were in Fortune's bosome sleeping,
Then in a dull security abide,

And of their doubtfull state neglect the keeping,
Whil'st fearfull ruine comes upon them creeping.

Thus the vicissitude of worldly things
Doth oft to us it selfe detect,
When heavenly pow'rs exalt, deject,
Confirme, confound, erect, and ruine kings.
So Alexander, mighty now,
To whom the vanquish'd world doth bow,
With all submission, homage, and respect,
Doth flie a borrow'd flight with Fortune's wings;
Nor enters he his dangerous course to ponder;
Yet if once Fortune bend her cloudy brow,
All those who at his sudden successe wonder,
May gaze as much to see himselfe brought under.

CHORUS THIRD.

TIME, through love's judgement just,
Huge alterations brings:

Those are but fooles who trust
In transitory things,

Whose tailes beare mortall stings,
Which in the end will wound;
And let none thinke it strange,
Though all things earthly change:
In this inferiour round

What is from ruine free ?
The elements which be

At variance (as we see)

Each th' other doth confound:
The earth and ayre make warre,
The fire and water are

Still wrestling at debate,

All those through cold and heat,

Through drought and moisture jarre. What wonder though men change and fade, Who of those changing elements are made?

How dare vaine worldlings vaunt
Of Fortune's goods not lasting,
Evils which our wits enchant?
Expos'd to losse and wasting!
Loe, we to death are hasting,
Whil'st we those things discusse:
All things from their beginning,
Still to an end are running,
Heaven hath ordain'd it thus;
We heare how it doth thunder,
We see th' earth burst asunder,
And yet we never ponder
What this imports to us :
Those fearefull signes doe prove,
That th' angry pow'rs above
Are mov'd to indignation
Against this wretched nation,
Which they no longer love:
What are we but a puffe of breath
Who live assur'd of nothing but of death?

Who was so happy yet
As never had some crosse ?
Though on a throne he sit,
And is not us'd with losse,
Yet Fortune once will tosse

hus while he is, his paines are never ended, hat whil'st he is not, he may be commended.

hat can this help the happinesse of kings to subdue their neighbours as they do? nd make strange nations tributaries too ?

The greater state, the greater trouble brings;" Their pompes and triumphs stand them in no stead; Their arches, tombs, pyramides high,

nd statutes, are but vanity:

They dye, and yet would live in what is dead; and while they live, we see their glorious actions ft wrested to the worst, and all their life but a stage of endlesse toyle and strife, of tumults, uproars, mutinies, and factions; They rise with feare, and lye with danger downe, Tuge are the cares which wait upon a crowne."

and as ambition princes under-mynes, o doth it those who under them rule all: Ve see in how short time they rise and fall, How oft their light ecclips'd but dimmely shines; They long time labour by all meanes to move Their prince to value much their parts, and when advanc'd by subtle arts, O what a danger is 't to be above! For, straight expos'd to hatred, and despight, Vith all their skill they cannot march so even; But some opprobrious scandall will be given: For all men envy them who have most might; - And if the king dislike them once, then straight The wretched courtiers fall with their owne weight."

Some of a sprite more poore, who would be prais'd,
And yet have nought for which to be esteem'd,
What they are not in deed would faine be deem'd,
And indirectly labour to be rais'd.

This crue each publicke place of honour haunts,
And (changing garments every day)
Whil'st they would hide, do but bewray
With outward ornaments their inward wants;
And men of better judgement justly loath
Those, who in outward shows place all their care,
And decke their bodies, whil'st their mindes are bare,
Like to a shadow, or a painted cloth,
The multitude, which but th' apparell notes,
Doth homage, not to them, but to their cotes.

Yet princes must be serv'd, and with all sorts:
Some both to do, and counsell what is best,
Some serve for cyphers to set out the rest,
Like life-lesse pictures which adorne the ports;
Faire palaces replenish'd are with feares,
Those seeming pleasures are but snares,
The royall robe doth cover cares;

Th' Assyrian dye deare buys he who it beares;
Those dainty delicates, and farre-fetch'd food,
Oft (through suspition) savour out of season,
Embrodred beds, and tapestries hatch treason;
The golden goblets mingled are with bloud.
Such shows the shadows are when greatnesse shines,
Whose state by them the gazing world divines."

O happie he who, farre from fame, at home,
Securely sitting by a quiet fire,

(Though having little) doth not more desire,
But first himselfe, then all things doth orecome;
His purchase weigh'd, or what his parents left,
He squares his charges to his store,

And takes not what he must restore,

Nor eates the spoyles that from the poore were reft:

Not, proud, nor base, he (scorning creeping art)
From jealous thoughts and envy free,
No poyson feares in cups of tree;
No treason harbours in so poore a part:
No heavy dreame doth vex him when he sleeps,

A guiltlesse minde the guardlesse cottage keeps."

He doth not studie much what stormes may blow,
Whose poverty can hardly be impair'd;
He feares no forraine force, nor craves no guard;
None doth desire his spoyle, none looks so low,
Whereas the great are commonly once crost,
As Darius hath beene in his flowre,
Or Sisigambis at this houre,

Who hath scap'd long, and now at length is lost:
But how comes this, that potentates oft fall,
And must confesse this trouble of their soule?
There is some higher pow'r that can controull,
The monarchs of the Earth, and censure all:
Who once will call their actions to account,
And them represse who to oppresse were prompt.

CHORUSES

IN THE ALEXANDREAN TRAGEDY.

CHORUS FIRST.

WHAT strange adventures now
Distract distressed mindes
With such most monstrous formes?
When silence doth allow
The peace that nature findes,
And that tumultuous windes
Do not disturbe with stormes
An universall rest:

[snares

When Morpheus hath represt
Th' impetuous waves of cares,
And with a soft sleepe bindes
Those tyrants of the brest,
Which would spread forth most dangerous
To sink affliction in despaires:
Huge horrours then arise
The elements to marre,
With most disastrous signes:
Arm'd squadrons in the skies,
With lances throwne from farre,
Do make a monstrous warre,
Whil'st furie nought confines:
The dragons vomit fire,

And make the starres retire
Out of their orbes for feare,

To satisfie their ire,

1

Which Heaven's high buildings not forbear,
But seem the crystall towres to teare;
Amidst this ayre, fierce blasts
Doe boast with blustring sounds
To crush the mighty frame,
Which (whilst the tempest lasts)
Doth rent the stately rounds,
To signifie what wounds
To all her off-spring's shame,

Shall burst th' Earth's vaynes with bloud,
And this all-circling floud

(As it the Heavens would drowne)
Doth passe the bounding bounds,
And all the scalie brood

Reare roaring Neptune's foamie crowne,

Whilst th' Earth for feare seems to sinke downe:

Those whom it hid, with horrour
Their ashy lodgings leave,
To re-enjoy the light,
Or else some panicke terrour
Our judgement did bereave,
Whilst first we misconceive,
And so prejudge the sight;
Or, in the bodie's stead,
The genius of the dead
Turnes backe from Styx againe,
Which Dis will not receive,

Till it a time, engendring dread,
Plague (whilst it doth on th' Earth remaine)
All else with feare, it selfe with paine.
These fearefull signes fore-show

(All nations to appall)

What plagues are to succeed.
Since death hath layd him low,
Who first had made us thrall,
We heard that straight his fall
Our liberty would breed;
But this proves no reliefe:
For, many (O what griefe !)
The place of one supply;
And we must suffer all;
Thus was our comfort briefe:
O! rarely doe usurpers dye,
But others will their fortune try.

CHORUS SECOND.

O HAPPY was that guiltless age
When as Astræa liv'd below:
And that Bellona's barbarous rage
Did not all order quite o'rethrow.
Then whil'st all did themselves content
With that thing which they did possesse,
And gloried in a little rent,

As wanting meanes to make excesse;
Those could no kind of want bemone,
For, craving nought, they had all things:
And since none sought the regal throne,
Whil'st none were subjects, all were kings :
"O! to true blisse their course was set,
Who got to live, nor live to get."

Then innocency naked liv'd,

And had no need, nor thought of armes, Whil'st spightful sprits no meanes contriv'd, To plague the simple sort with harmes: Then snaring laws did not extend

The bounds of reason as they do,
Strife oft begun where it should end,
One doubt but clear'd to foster two:

By conscience then all order stood,
By which darke things were soone discern'd,
Whil'st all behov'd there to be good,
Whereas no evill was to be learn'd:

And how could any then prove naught,
Whil'st by example virtue taught?

Then mortals' mindes all strong and pure,
Free from corruption lasted long,

(By innocency kept secure)

When none did know how to do wrong: Then sting'd with no suspicious thought, Men mischief did from none expect: For what in them could not be wrought, In others they would not suspect;

And though none did sterne laws impart,
That might to virtue men compell,
Each one, by habit, in his heart
Had grav'd a law of doing well:
And did all wickedness forbeare
Of their free-will, and not for feare.

The first who spoil'd the publick rest,
And did disturb this quiet state,
Was Avarice, the greatest pest
Which doth of darknesse fill the seat;
A monster very hard to daunt,

Leane, as dry'd up with inward care,
(Though full of wealth) for feare of want
Still at the borders of despayre;
Scarce taking food for nature's ease,
Nor for the cold sufficient clothing,
She whom her owne could never please,
Thinks all have much, and she hath nothing:
This daughter of sterne Pluto, still
Her father's dungeons strives to fill.

That monster-tamer most renown'd,
The great Alcides, Thebes' glory,
Who (for twelve several labours crown'd)
Was famous made by many a story,
As one who all his time had toyl'd

To purge the world of such like pests,
Who robbers rob'd, and spoylers spoyl'd,
Still humbling haughty tyrants' crests,
He by this monster once o'er-throwne,
Did passe in Spaine ore lands and floods,
And there took more than was his owne,
What right had he to Gerion's goods?
Thus Avarice the world deceives,
And makes the greatest conquerors slaves.

Ah! when to plague the world with griefe,
This poore-rich monster once was borne,

Then weakness could finde ne reliefe,
And subtiltie did conscience scorne:
Yet some who labour'd to recall

That blisse which gilded the first age,
Did punishment prepare for all,
Who did their thoughts in vice engage;
And yet the more they laws did bring,
That to be good might men constraine,
The more they sought to do the thing
From which the laws did them restraine.
So that by custome alter'd quite,
The world in ill doth most delight.

CHORUS THIRD.

LOE, how all good decayes, And ills doe now abound; In this sky-compass'd round, There is no kinde of trust: For, man-kinde whilst it strayes In pleasure-paved wayes, With flouds of vice is drown'd; And doth (farre from refuge) In endlesse shadowes lodge, Yet strives to rise no more: No doubt (as most unjust) The world once perish must, And worse now to restore, Then it was of before,