Now I see, and seeing sorrow,

That the day consum'd returns not:

Who dare trust upon to-morrow,

When nor time, nor life sojourns not.

LI

T. LODGE.

FORTUNE AND VIRTUE

DAZZLED thus with height of place,
Whilst our Hopes our Wits beguile,
No man marks the narrow space
'Twixt a Prison and a Smile.

Then, since Fortune's favours fade,
You, that in her arms do sleep,
Learn to swim, and not to wade;
For the Hearts of Kings are deep.

But if Greatness be so blind
As to trust in Towers of Air,
Let it be with Goodness lin❜d,
That at least the Fall be fair.

Then, though dark'ned, you shall say,
When Friends fail, and Princes frown,
Vertue is the roughest way,

But proves at Night a Bed of Down.

SIR H. WOTTON.

LII

LOSS IN DELAY

SHUN delayes, they breede remorse;
Take thy time while time is lent thee;
Creeping snailes have weakest force,

Fly their fault lest thou repent thee.
Good is best when soonest wrought,
Linger'd labours come to nought.

Hoist up sail while gale doth last,

Tide and winde stay no man's pleasure;

Seeke not time when time is past,

Sober speede is wisdom's leisure.

After-wits are dearly bought,

Let thy fore-wit guide thy thought.

Seek thy salve while sore is green,

Fester'd woundes ask deeper lancing;

After cures are seldome seen,

Often sought scarce ever chancing.

Time and place give best advice,

Out of season, out of price.

Tender twigs are bent with ease,

Aged trees do breake with bending;

Young desires make little prease,

Growth doth make them past amending. Happy man, that soone doth knock

Babel's babes against the rock!

R. SOUTHWELL.

LIII

A PORTRAIT

A SWEET attractive kinde of grace,
A full assurance giv'n by lookes,
Continual comfort in a face,

The lineaments of Gospell bookes.
I trowe that countenance cannot lie
Whose thoughts are legible in the eye.

Was never eye did see that face,
Was never eare did heare that tong,
Was never minde did minde his grace,
That ever thought the travell long;
But eyes, and eares, and ev'ry thought
Were with his sweete perfections caught.

M. ROYDON.

LIV

A CONTENTED MIND

I weigh not Fortune's frowne or smile,
I joy not much in earthly joyes,
I seeke not state, I seeke not stile,
I am not fond of fancie's toyes.

I rest so pleas'd with what I have,
I wish no more, no more I crave.
I quake not at the thunder's crack,
I tremble not at noise of warre,

I swound not at the newes of wrack,

I shrink not at a blazing-starre;

I fear not losse, I hope not gaine,

I envie none, I none disdaine.

I see Ambition never pleas'd,
I see some Tantals starv'd in store,
I see gold's dropsie seldome eas'd,
I see even Midas gape for more;

I neither want, nor yet abound,
Enough's a feast, content is crown'd.
I faine not friendship where I hate,
I fawne not on the great (in show),
I prize, I praise a meane estate,
Neither too lofty nor too low;

This, this is all my choice, my cheere,
A minde content, a conscience cleere.

J. SYLVESTER.

LV

THE STURDY ROCK

THE sturdy rock, for all his strength,
By raging seas is rent in twaine;
The marble stone is pearst at length,
With little drops of drizzling rain:
The ox doth yeeld unto the yoke,
The steele obeyeth the hammer stroke.

The stately stagge, that seems so stout, By yalping hounds at bay is set; The swiftest bird that flies about,

Is caught at length in fowler's net: The greatest fish, in deepest brooke, Is soon deceived by subtill hooke.

Yea, man himself, unto whose will

All thinges are bounden to obey; For all his wit and worthie skill,

Doth fade at length and fall away. There is nothing but time doth waste; The heavens, the earth, consume at last.

But vertue sits triumphing still,

Upon the throne of glorious fame; Though spiteful death man's body kill,

Yet hurts he not his vertuous name.