Times Cvrtaine Drawne :: :: University of Virginia Library

Fortune, who calls thee blinde is not to blame,
For so much is imported by thy name;
Worth thou respects not: he that doth inherit
Thy blinde estate is one of least demerit;
Who knowes not worth, but's wont to derogate
From style of Man, to better his estate.
Fondling that fawnes on greatnesse, I detest
To be by thee or thy vaine fauours blest;
For if I should, who liue in Wisedomes Schoole,
Would gather hence I were some brain-sicke foole
That had no meanes (for so they would report me)
But iust as purblinde Fortune did support me.
And what were I then but a garish Asse,
That casts a perfume where he's wont to passe;
protesting (vaine protests) he ha's betraide,
A Ladies honour by her Chambermaide;
Sweares by his silken sinnes, he can dispence
With faith, friend, promise, soule, and Conscience;
To make his way more cleare, more eminent,
Vnto his Courtly Puppet, his faire Saint;
Whose onely glory is to vaunt of sinne,
“And as he boasts of her, shee feedes on him!

O World, how vaine is he that doth rely
Vpon thy fained, forged flattery;
When best deserts (so thin is merit sowen)
Are to degrees of worst opinion growne?
When Time affords no ioy but vnto such,
As are esteem'd for hauing ouermuch;
And younger Brothers, onely heires of wit
For want of meanes, are forc'd to silence it!
“Farewell imperious Mole, I doe defie thee,
“Since none but wittalls can be fauour'd by thee.

FINIS.