University of Virginia Library

TO MY WORTHY FREND; MASTER JOHN SAVAGE OF THE INNER TEMPLE. Ode 4

Uppon this sinfull earth
If man can happy be
And higher then his birth
(Frend) take him thus of me:
Whome promise not deceives
That he the breach should rue,
Nor constant reason leaves
Opinion to pursue.
To rayse his meane estate
That sooths no wanton's sinne,
Doth that preferment hate
That virtue doth not winne.
Nor bravery doth admire
Nor doth more love professe,
To that he doth desire,
Then that he doth possesse:
Loose humor nor to please
That neither spares nor spends
By by discretion weyes
What is to needfull ends.
To him deserving not
Not yeelding, nor doth hould
What is not his, doing what
He ought, not what he could.

490

Whome the base tyrants will
Soe much could never awe
As him for good or ill
From honesty to drawe.
Whose constancy doth rise
Bove undeserved spight
Whose valew'rs to despise
That most doth him delight.
That earely leave doth take
Of th'world though to his payne
For virtues onely sake,
And not till need constrayne.
Noe man can be so free
Though in imperiall seate
Nor Eminent as he
That deemeth nothing greate.