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Though Titles, and thy blood, made thee appeare,
(Oft'gainst thy ease) where these state-Rabbins were;
Yet their philosophie thou knew'st was fit,
For thee to pitty, more than study it.
Safely thou valu'dst Cunning, as 'thad bin,
Wisdome, long since, distemper'd into Sin:
And knew'st, the actions of th'Ambitious are
But as the fal'se Al'armes in running warre,
Like forlorne Scowts (that raise the coyle) they keepe
Themselves awake, to hinder others sleepe:
And all they gaine, by vex'd expence of breath;
Unquietnesse, and guilt; is at their death,
Wonder, and mighty noyse; whilst things that be
Most deare, and pretious to Mortalitie
(Time, and thy Selfe) impatient here of stay,
With a grave silence, seeme to steale away;
Depart from us unheard, and wee still mourne
In vaine (though piously) for their returne.
Thy Bounties if I name; I'le not admit,
Kings, when they love, or wooe, to equall it:
It shew'd like Nature's selfe, when she doth bring
All she can promise by an early Spring;
(Oft'gainst thy ease) where these state-Rabbins were;
Yet their philosophie thou knew'st was fit,
For thee to pitty, more than study it.
Safely thou valu'dst Cunning, as 'thad bin,
Wisdome, long since, distemper'd into Sin:
And knew'st, the actions of th'Ambitious are
But as the fal'se Al'armes in running warre,
Like forlorne Scowts (that raise the coyle) they keepe
Themselves awake, to hinder others sleepe:
And all they gaine, by vex'd expence of breath;
Unquietnesse, and guilt; is at their death,
Wonder, and mighty noyse; whilst things that be
Most deare, and pretious to Mortalitie
(Time, and thy Selfe) impatient here of stay,
With a grave silence, seeme to steale away;
Depart from us unheard, and wee still mourne
In vaine (though piously) for their returne.
Thy Bounties if I name; I'le not admit,
Kings, when they love, or wooe, to equall it:
It shew'd like Nature's selfe, when she doth bring
All she can promise by an early Spring;
Or
