22. The Soliloquy.
1
I have no riches, neither know
I where the Mines of Silver grow;
The golden age I cannot find,
Yet there is plenty in my mind.
'Tis wealth I crave, 'tis wealth that I require;
Yet there's no wealth to fill my vain desire;
Nor hopes thereof to still my craving lyte.
2
What shall I do in such a case?
I am accounted mean and base.
Both friends and strangers frown on me,
'Cause I am gaul'd with poverty.
Well, let them frown, yet I will not lament,
Nor value them, though fortune has not lent
To me her blessings, yet I have content!
3
Alas poor plant of low esteem,
How base of thee the world doth deem?
I'me but an object, could my name
But once procure the wings of fame;
Then like Apollo, glittering in the skies
I'de ride triumphant, and I'de tympanise,
Daring the apples of all humane eyes.
4
I, but I am not so sublime
In parts and merits, as to clime
Into the high terrestrial story
Of fame, triumph, renown, and glory:
Yet my content shall vanquish my disease.
Perhaps if I should climb such stairs as these,
(Like Icarus) I might salute the Seas.
5
For glory has but waxen wings;
It's like the voice of one that sings
A Prick-song ditty, now he yauls
With mounted voice, and then he falls:
So falls our fame, for censure will exile it,
And ill look't Envy quickly discompile it:
The least disaster may at last defile it.
6
I but poor worm, diseases pierce
The thin and slender universe
Of my poor flesh, weak flesh, yet I
Can find no help nor remedy;
But yet I care not, there's a healthful wind.
Survey Philosophy, and you shall find,
Sick flesh is better then a sickly mind.
7
Then farewel care for carnal wealth,
For worldly fame, and fleshly health:
Il'e use no Doctor, while I find
A wholsome temper in my mind.
I will not grieve, no fate shall make me vary
Both cross and loss shall be no adversary,
Il'e wash down all with glasses of Canary.