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When at the last deluge,
Men by Deucalion once
Were made againe of stones;
And well this wicked race
Bewrayes a stony kinde,

Which beares a stubborne minde,
Still hardned unto sinne.
Loe, now in every place
All vertuous motions cease,
And sacred faith we finde,
Farre from the earth is fled,
Whose flight huge mischiefe bred,
And filles the world with warres,
Whilst impious brests begin
To let base treason in :
Which common concord marres,
Whilst all men live at jarres,
And nets of fraud doe spreade,
The simple to surprise,
Too witty, but not wise;
Yet those who in deceit
Their confidence repose,
A thing more deare doe lose
Then can by guile be gain'd;
Which when repented late,
May ruine once their state,
Whilst purer sprites disclose

With what their breasts are stor'd;

For, though they would remord,
They get not trust againe ;
But, having honour stain'd,
And covenants prophan'd,

Are held in high disdaine,
"And doe in end remaine,
Of all the world abhorr❜d;
Not trusty when they should,
Not trusted when they would:"
But ah! our nobles now,
Loe, like Lysander still,
So that they get their will,
Regard not by what way,
And with a shamelesse brow,
Doe of the end allow,

Even though the meanes were ill;
Which all the world may see,
Disgraceth their degree,
Who (changing every houre)
Doe all base slights assay;
What can brave mindes dismay,
Whose worth is like a tower,
Against all fortune's pow'r,
Still from all fraud whilst free?
"These keepe their course unknowne,
Whom it would blame if showne:"
Who not from worth digresse,

To slights which feare imparts,

Doe show heroicke hearts,

The which would rather farre

An open hate professe,

Then basely it suppresse:

"No glory comes from fearefull arts:"

But those who doe us lead,

As for dissembling made,
Even though that they intend
Amongst themselves to warre,
Seeme in no sort to jarre,
But friendship doe pretend,
Not like their lord now dead,
Who trusting to his worth,
Still what he meant spake forth;
VOL. V.

The great men not for nought,
Doe seeke the people's love:
Their deeds that to approve,
They may their mindes allure:
But Perdiccas is thought,
Too slowly to have sought
Their doubtfull mindes to move,
As one who still conceits
He may command the fates;
His pride so great is growne,
That none can it endure;
Yet stands his state unsure,
Since odious to his owne :
"He must be once orethrowne,
Whose humour each man hates,
Pride doth her followers all
Lead head-longs to a fall."

CHORUS FOURTH.

Aн, ah! though man the image of great love,
And, th' onely creature that gives Reason place,
With reverence due unto the powres above,
His heavenly progeny should seeke to prove,
By still resembling the immortall kinde;
Yet makes the world our better part so blinde,
That we the clouds of vanity imbrace,
And from our first excellency decline;

This doth distinguish that celestiall grace, [love,
Which should make soules to burne with vertue's
Whose fancies vice luxuriously now feasts;
"Vice is the Circe that enchants the minde,
And doth transforme her followers all in swine;
Whil'st poyson'd pleasures so corrupt our tastes,
That of halfe-gods, we make our selves whole-
And yet of ruthlesse Pluto's raging host, [beasts:"
The vice which doth transport presumptuous hearts,
And makes men from the gods to differ most,
Is cruelty, that to the sufferer's cost,
And actor's both, is often-times appeas'd:
The gods delight to give, and to forgive,
By pardoning, and not by plagueing pleas'd;
And why should men excogitate strange arts,
To show their tyranny, as those who strive
To feed on mischiefe, though the author smarts,
Oft for the deed of which himselfe did boast,
Whil'st whence the blow first came, the griefe doth
turne?

"For, that by which the minde at first was eas'd,
May it in th' end the greatest burden give;
Oft those whose cruelty makes many mourne,
Do by the fires which they first kindled burne;
Of other tyrants which oppresse the minde,
With pleasure some delight it, in such sort
That first the hony, then the gall we finde;
And others (though from honor's court declin'd)
Some comfort yeeld (but base) by hope of gaine;
And, though some make us to be loath'd of one,
We by their meanes another's love obtaine;
But cruelty, with which none can comport,
Makes th' authors hated when the deed is done,
Oft even by those whom it did most support,
As that which alienates men from their kinde;
And as humanity the minde enchaunts,
So barbarous soules which from the same refraine,
More fierce than savage beasts, are lov'd of none:
Since with such beasts one with lesse danger haunts,
Then with the man whose minde all mercy wants;"

Ff

Yet though the minde of man, as strong, and rude,
Be ravish'd oft with violent desire,

And must, if fir'd with rage, be quench'd with bloud,
How can this tender sexe, whose glory stood
In having hearts inclin'd to pity, still
It selfe delight in any barbarous deed?
For, Nature seemes in this to use her skill,

In making womens' mindes (though weake) entire,
That weaknesse might, love, and devotion breed;
To which their thoughts (if pure) might best aspire,
As aptest for th' impressions of all good,
But from the best to worst all things do weare;
Since cruelties from feeble mindes proceed, [feare
"In breasts where courage failes, spite, shame and
Make envy, hate, and rigour rule to beare."
Our queene Olympias, who was once so great,
And did such monstrous cruelties commit,
In plaguing Philip, and his queene of late,
Loe, now brought low to taste the like estate,
Must take such entertainment as she gave,
And yet good reason that it should be so,
"Such measure as we give, we must receive."
Whil'st on a throne she proudly earst did sit,
And with disdainefull eyes look'd on her foe,
As onely vanquish'd by her pow'r, and wit,
She did not weigh what doth proceed from fate:
O, O! th' immortals which command above,
Of every state in hand the rudder have,
And as they like, can make us stay or go;
"The griefe of others should us greatly move,
As those who sometime may like fortune prove;
But as experience with rare proofes hath showne,
To look on others, we have linx-his eyes,
Whilst we would have their imperfections knowne;
Yet (like blinde moles) can never marke our owne.
Such clouds of selfe-regard do dimme our sight;
Why should we be puff'd up when foes do fall?
Since what to day doth on another light,
The same to morrow may our state surprise.
Those that on this inconstant constant ball
Do live environ'd with th' all-circling skies,
Have many meanes whereby to be ore-throwne:
And why should dying worldlings swolne with wrath,
So tyrannize ore an afflicted wight,
Since miseries are common unto all?

Let none be proud who draw a doubtfull breath,
Good hap attends but few, unto their death."

CHORUS FIFTH.

"WHAT damned furies thus tosse mortals' mindes,
With such a violent desire to raigne?
That neither honour, friendship, duty, bloud,
Nor yet no band so sacred is as bindes

Ambitious thoughts which would a kingdome gaine:

But all is buried in blacke Lethe's floud,
That may the course of soveraignty restraine,
Which from the brest doth all respects repell,
And like a torrent cannot be gaine-stood:
Yea many would, a scepter to obtaine,
In spite of all the world, and Iove's owne wrath,
March through the lowest dungeons of the Hels,
And from a diademe would breath with pow'r,
Though all death's engines brag'd them every houre,"

Yet, though such restlesse mindes attaine in th' end
The height to which their haughty hearts aspir'd,
They never can embrace that dreamed blisse,
Which their deluded thoughts did apprehend;

Though by the multitude they be admir'd,
That still to pow'r doth show it selfe submisse;
Yet by the soule still further is requir'd,
Which should seale up th' accomplishment of joy;
"Thus partiall judgements blindely ayme amisse,
At things which stand without our reach retir'd,
Which whilst not ours, as treasures we define,
But not the same whilst we the same enjoy;
Some things a farre doe like the glow-worme shine,
Which look't too neere, have of that light no signe.
No charge on th' Earth more weighty to discharge,
O! those who manage must the reynes of state,
Then that which of a kingdome doth dispose:
Till their pale ghost imbarke in Charon's barge,
They never need t' attend a true repose:
How hard is it to please each man's conceit,
When gaining one, they must another lose?
Thus, hardly kings themselves can evenly beare,
Whom if severe (as cruell) subjects hate;
Contempt dare to the milde it selfe oppose;
Who spare in time, as niggards are despis'd,
Men from too franke a minde, exactions feare,
Though in all shapes (as Proteus us'd) disguis'd,
Kings by some scandall alwaies are surpris'd."
Yet one might well with every thing comport,
Which on opinion onely doth depend,
If further danger follow'd not by deeds,
But every monarch (loe) in many a sort
Death (laid in ambush) alwaies doth attend;
Of some by mut'nous swords the life forth bleeds;
By unsuspected poyson others end,

Which whilst they alwaies labour to prevent,
A thousand deaths within their breasts life breeds;
Loe, this is all for which the great contend,
Who, (whilst their pride themselves and others
spoiles)

With their dominions doe their cares augment: "And O vaine man who toyl'st to double toyles, Though still the victory the victor foiles:"

Thus Alexander could not be appeas'd,
Whilst he to raise his state did wayes prepare,
Which when made most, diminish'd most remain'd,
Where (with his father's bounds had he beene
pleas'd)

He might have left our crowne sure to his heire,
Who by his conquest nought but death hath gayn'd;
Yet for no paines a number now doth spare,
To worke for that by which his wreake was wrought,
Which (though from it they rage to be restrain'd)
Would (if possest) their pleasures but impaire:
Yet they by harme of others seeke the thing
Which by their harme of others will be sought:
"To him and his, each of them death would bring,

That it might once be said he was a king.

We may securely sitting on the shore,
Whilst great men doe (as toss'd on th' ocean) grone,
Taught by their toyles, esteeme much of our rest:
For this doth thousands with affliction store,
Which of the world as most unhappy moane,
If they but chance to view some few more blest,
Where if they would but marke, how many a one
More wretch'd then they in misery doth live,
It straight would calme the most unquiet brest;
The cottage oft is happier then the throne;
To thinke our owne state good, and others' ill,
It could not but a great contentment give:
There much consists in the conceit and will:
To us all things are as we thinke them still."

"All selfe-accusing soules no rest can finde, What greater torment then a troubled minde?"

CHORUSES

IN JULIUS CESAR.

CHORUS FIRST.

"WE should be loath to grieve the gods,
Who hold us in a ballance still;
And as they will

May weigh us up, or downe;
Those who by folly foster pride,
And do deride

The terrour of the thunderer's rods,

In seas of sinne their soules do drowne,
And others them abhorre as most unjust,
Who want religion do deserve no trust:"

How dare fraile flesh presume to rise

(Whil'st it deserves Heaven's wrath to prove)

On th' Earth to move,

Lest that it opening straight,

Give death and buriall both at once?

How dare such ones

Look up unto the skies,

For feare to feele the thunderer's weight?
"All th' elements their Maker's will attend,
As prompt to plague, as men are to offend."

All must be plagu'd who God displease,
Then whil'st he Bacchus rites did scorne,
Was Pentheus torne ;

The Delian's high disdaine

Made Niobe (though turn'd a stone)
With teares still mone,

And (Pallas to appease)

Arachne weaves loath'd webbes in vaine :
Heaven hath prepar'd ere ever they begin,
A fall for pride, a punishment for sinne.

Loe, Iuno yet doth still retaine
That indignation once conceiv'd,
For wrong receiv'd

From Paris as we finde ;

And for his cause (bent to disgrace

The Trojan race)

Doth hold a high disdaine,

Long layd up in a loftie minde:

"We should abstaine from irritating those

Whose thoughts (if wrong'd) not till reveng'd repose."

Thus, thus for Paris' fond desire,

Who of his pleasures had no part,
For them must smart:

Such be the fruits of lust;

Can heavenly breasts so long time lodge
A secret grudge?

Like mortals thrall to yre,

Till justice sometime seemes unjust?

"Of all the furies which afflict the soule,
Lust and revenge are hardest to controull:"

The gods give them but rarely rest,
Who do against their will contend,
And plagues do spend,

That fortunate in nought,

Their sprits (quite parted from repose)
May still expose

The stormy troubled brest

A prey to each tyrannicke thought:

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

That (farre from barbarous broiles)
We of our life this little space
May spend in peace,

Free from affliction's showres;

Or at the least from guilty toyles;

"Let us of rest the treasure strive to gaine, Without the which nought can be had but paine."

CHORUS SECOND.

"THIS life of ours is like a rose,
Which whilst rare beauties it array,
Doth then enjoy the least repose;
When virgin-like made blush (we see)
Of every hand it is the prey,

And by each winde is blowne away;
Yea, though from violence scap'd free,
(Thus time triumphs, and leades all thrals)
Yet doth it languish and decay:
O! whilst the courage hottest boiles,
And that our life seemes best to be,
It is with dangers compast still;
Whilst it each little change appalles,
The body, force without oft foiles,
It th' owne distemp'rature oft spoiles,
And even, though none it chance to kill,
As nature failes, the body falles,

Of which save death, nought bounds the toyles:
What is this moving tow'r in which we trust?

A little winde clos'd in a cloud of dust."

And yet some sprites though being pent
In this fraile prison's narrow bounds,
(Whilst what might serve, doth not content)
Doe alwaies bend their thoughts too high,
And ayme at all the peopled grounds;
Then whilst their brests ambition wounds,
They feed as fearing straight to dye,
Yet build as if they still might live,
Whilst famish'd for fame's empty sounds:
Of such no end the travell ends,
But a beginning gives, whereby
They may be vex'd worse then before;
For, whilst they still new hopes contrive,
"The hoped good more anguish sends,
Then the possess'd contentment lends ;"
As beasts not taste, but doe devoure,
They swallow much, and for more strive,
Whilst still their hope some change attends :
"And how can such but still themselves annoy,
Who can acquire, but know not how t' enjoy?"

Since as a ship amidst the deepes,
Or as an eagle through the ayre,
Of which no way th' impression keepes,
Most swift when seeming least to move:
This breath of which we take such care,
Doth tosse the body every where,
That it may hence with haste remove :
"Life slips and sleepes alwayes away,
Then hence, and as it came, goes bare,"
Whose steppes behinde no trace doe leave:
Why should Heaven-banish'd soules thus love
The cause, and bounds of their exile,

As restlesse strangers where they stray?
And with such paine why should they reave
That which they have no right to have,
Which with them in a little while,
As summer's beauties, must decay,
And can give nought except the grave?
"Though all things doe to harme him what they
No greater enemie then himselfe to man."

Whilst oft environ'd with his foes,
Which threatned death on every side,
Great Cæsar parted from repose
(As Atlas holding up the starres)
Did of a world the weight abide;
But since a prey to foolish pride,
More then by all the former warres,
He now by it doth harm'd remaine,
And of his fortune doth diffide:
Made rich by many nations' wreake,
He (breaking through the liquid barres)
In Neptune's armes his minion forc'd;
Yet still pursu'd new hopes in vaine:
"Would the ambitious looking backe
Of their inferiours knowledge take,
They from huge cares might be divore'd,
Whilst viewing few, more pow'r attaine,
And many more then they to lacke:

[can,

The onely plague from men that rest doth reave,
Is that they weigh their wants, not what they have."

Since thus the great themselves involve
In such a labyrinth of cares,

Whence none to scape can well resolve,
But by degrees are forward led,

Through waves of hopes, rockes of despaires:
Let us avoyd ambition's snares,

And farre from stormes by envy bred,
Still seeke (though low) a quiet rest,

With mindes where no proud thought repaires,
That in vaine shadowes doth delight;
Thus may our fancies still be fed

With that which Nature freely gives;

Let us iniquity detest,

And hold but what we owe of right;

Th' eye's treasure is th' all-circling light,
Not that vaine pompe for which pride strives,
Whose glory (but a poysnous pest)

To plague the soule, delights the sight:
"Ease comes with ease, where all by paine buy
paine,

Rest we in peace, by warre let others raigne."

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To make them rare for rarest things,
The world made witnesse of their worth:

Thus those great mindes who domineer'd ore all.
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,

And bound their glory with our shame, Whil'st on an abject tyrant's throne, We (base) attend,

And do intend

Us for our fortune still to frame,
Not it for us, and all for one:

"As liberty a courage doth impart,

So bondage doth disbend, else breake the heart,”

Yet, O! who knows but Rome to grace Another Brutus may arise?

Who may effect

What we affect,

And Tarquine's steps make Cæsar trace ;Though seeming dangers to despise

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CHORUS FOURTH.

WHAT fury thus doth fill the brest
With a prodigious rash desire,
Which banishing their soules from rest,
Doth make them live who high aspire,
(Whilst it within their bosome boyles)
As salamanders in the fire;

Or like to serpents changing spoyles,
Their wither'd beauties to renew?
Like vipers with unnaturall toyles,

Of such the thoughts themselves pursue,
Who for all lines their lives doe square,
Whilst like camelions changing hue,
They onely feed on empty ayre:

"To passe ambition greatest matters brings, And (save contentment) can attaine all things."

This active passion doth disdaine
To match with any vulgar minde,

As in base breasts where terrours raigne,
Too great a guest to be confin'd;
It doth but lofty thoughts frequent,
Where it a spatious field may finde,
It selfe with honour to content,

Where reverenc'd fame doth lowdest sound;
Those for great things by courage bent,
(Farre lifted from this lumpish round)
Would in the sphere of glory move,
Whilst lofty thoughts which nought can binde,
All rivals live in vertue's love;
"On abject preyes as th' eagles never light,
Ambition poysons but the greatest sprite."
And of this restlesse vulture's brood,
(If not become too great a flame)
A little sparke doth sometime good,
Which makes great mindes (affecting fame)
To suffer still all kinde of paine:
Their fortune at the bloudy game,
Who hazard would for hope of gaine,
Vnlesse first burn'd by thirst of praise?
The learned to a higher straine,
Their wits by emulation raise,
As those who hold applauses deare;
And what great minde at which men gaze,
It selfe can of ambition cleare,
Which is when valu'd at the highest price,
A generous errour, an heroicke vice?

But when this frenzie, flaming bright,
Doth so the soules of some surprise,
That they can taste of no delight,
But what from soveraignty doth rise,
Then, huge affliction it affords;
Such must (themselves so to disguise)
Prove prodigall of courteous words,
Give much to some, and promise all,
Then humble seeme to be made lords,
Yea, being thus to many thrall,
Must words impart, if not support;
To those who crush'd by fortune fall;
And grieve themselves to please each sort:

"Are not those wretch'd, who, ore a dangerous snare Do hang by hopes, whilst ballanc'd in the ayre;"

Then when they have the port attain'd,
Which was through seas of dangers sought,
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;
With searching eyes, and watching eares,
To learne that which it grieves to know:
The brest that such a burden beares,
What huge afflictions doe orethrow?
Thus, each prince is (as all perceive)
No more exalted then brought low,
"Of many, lord, of many, slave;

That idoll greatnesse which th' Earth doth adone,
Is gotten with great paine, and kept with more:"
He who to this imagin'd good,

Did through his countrie's bowels tend,
Neglecting friendship, duty, bloud,
And all on which trust can depend,
Or by which love could be conceiv'd,
Doth finde of what he did attend,
His expectations farre deceiv'd;
For, since suspecting secret snares,
His soule hath still of rest beene reav'd,
Whilst squadrons of tumultuous cares,
Forth from his brest extort deep grones:
Thus Cæsar now of life despaires,
Whose lot his hope exceeded once;

And who can long well keep an ill wonne state?
"Those perish must by some whom all men hate."

CHORUS FIFTH.

WHAT fools are those who do repose their trust
On what this masse of misery affords?
And (bragging but of th' excrements of dust)
Of life-lesse treasures labour to be lords:
Which like the Sirens' songs, or Circe's charmes,
With shadows of delights hide certaine harmes.
Ah! whilst they sport on pleasure's ycie grounds,
Oft poyson'd by prosperitie with pride,

A sudden storme their floting joyes confounds,
Whose course is ordred by the eye-lesse guide,
Who so inconstantly her selfe doth beare
Th' unhappie men may hope, the happy feare.
The fortunate who bathe in flouds of joyes,

To perish oft amidst their pleasures chance,
And mirthlesse wretches wallowing in annoyes,
Oft by adversitie themselves advance;
Whil'st Fortune bent to mock vaine worldlings cares,
Doth change despaires in hopes, hopes in despaires.

That gallant Grecian whose great wit so soone,
Whom others could not number, did ore-come,
Had he not beene undone, had beene undone,
And if not banish'd, had not had a home;
To him feare courage gave (what wondrous change!)
And many doubts a resolution strange.

He who told one who then was Fortune's childe,
As if with horrour to congeale his bloud:
That Caius Marius farre from Rome exil'd,

Wretch'd on the ruines of great Carthage stood; Though long both plagu'd by griefe, and by disgrace, The consul-ship regain'd, and dy'd in peace.

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