 | Satires and miscellaneous poetry and prose |  |
236
FORTUNE
[DAME] Fortune some Men's Tutelar
Takes charge of them without their Care,
Do's all their Drudgery, and work,
Like Fairies, for 'em in the Dark,
Conduct's 'em Blindfold, and advances
The Naturals by blinder Chances:
While others by Desert and wit,
Could never make the Busnes hit,
But still the Better they Deserve,
Are but the Abler thought to sterve.
Takes charge of them without their Care,
Do's all their Drudgery, and work,
Like Fairies, for 'em in the Dark,
Conduct's 'em Blindfold, and advances
The Naturals by blinder Chances:
While others by Desert and wit,
Could never make the Busnes hit,
But still the Better they Deserve,
Are but the Abler thought to sterve.
Fortun[e]'s never so Perverse
As when Sh' oblige's Conquerers.
For Victorys acquird too soon
Are Lost as Easyly as won.
As when Sh' oblige's Conquerers.
For Victorys acquird too soon
Are Lost as Easyly as won.
Men at their Hight of Fortune are undon
As all Ecclipses Happen at Ful moon.
As all Ecclipses Happen at Ful moon.
There is no more, but a mere cast at Dice
Between the Greatest Idiot, and the wise
But Cross, and Pile between the Great, and Smal
And which shal Prove the Female, or the Male.
Between the Greatest Idiot, and the wise
But Cross, and Pile between the Great, and Smal
And which shal Prove the Female, or the Male.
For some Mens Fortunes like a weft or Stray
Are only Gaind by loosing of their way
An[d] fall from one mans, to anothers Hands
By chance and Destiny like Deodands.
Are only Gaind by loosing of their way
An[d] fall from one mans, to anothers Hands
By chance and Destiny like Deodands.
The Cunningst Gamsters are not lik[e] to win
That Put out Better Cards then they take in.
That Put out Better Cards then they take in.
Man is supreme Lord and Master
Of his own Ruin and Disaster,
Controuls his Fate, but nothing else
In ord'ring his own Happiness:
For all his Care and Providence
Is too too feeble a Defence,
To render it secure and certain
Against the Injuries of Fortune;
And oft, in spight of all his Wit,
Is lost with one unlucky hit,
And ruin'd with a circumstance,
And mere punctilio of Chance.
Of his own Ruin and Disaster,
Controuls his Fate, but nothing else
In ord'ring his own Happiness:
For all his Care and Providence
Is too too feeble a Defence,
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Against the Injuries of Fortune;
And oft, in spight of all his Wit,
Is lost with one unlucky hit,
And ruin'd with a circumstance,
And mere punctilio of Chance.
As Gold, that's proof against th' Assay,
Upon the Touchstone wears away;
And, having stood the greater Test,
Is overmaster'd by the least:
So some Men, having stood the Hate
And spiteful Cruelty of Fate,
Transported with a false Caress
Of unacquainted Happiness,
Lost to Humanity and Sense,
Have fall'n as low as Insolence.
Upon the Touchstone wears away;
And, having stood the greater Test,
Is overmaster'd by the least:
So some Men, having stood the Hate
And spiteful Cruelty of Fate,
Transported with a false Caress
Of unacquainted Happiness,
Lost to Humanity and Sense,
Have fall'n as low as Insolence.
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