 | Lucasta |  |
[Pentadii] Englished.
It is not, y' are deceav'd, it is not blisseWhat you conceave a happy living is;
To have your hands with Rubies bright to glow,
Then on your Tortoise-bed your body throw,
And sink your self in Down, to drink in gold,
And have your looser self in purple roll'd;
With Royal fare to make the Tables groan,
Or else with what from Lybick fields is mown,
Nor in one vault hoard all your Magazine,
But at no Cowards fate t'have frighted bin,
91
Nor at a drawn Stiletto basely sweat.
He that dares this, nothing to him's unfit,
But proud o' th'top of Fortunes wheel may sit.
| Lucasta | |