You little thinke, what plague it is to bee, In plight like _him_, whom pictur’d here you see. His _winged-Arme_, and his _up-lifted-eyes_, Declare, that hee hath _Wit_, and _Will_, to rise: The _Stone_, which clogs his other _hand_, may show That, _Povertie_ and _Fortune_, keepe him low: And, twixt these _two_, the _Bodie_ and the _Mind_, Such labours, and such great vexations finde, That, if you did not such mens wants contemne, You could not chuse but helpe, or pitie them. All Ages had (and, this I know hath some), Such men, as to this misery, doe come: And, many of them, at their _Lot_, so grieve, As if they knew, (or did at least beleeve) That, had their _Wealth_ suffiz’d them to aspire (To what their _Witts_ deserve, and they _desire_). The present Age, and future Ages too, Might gaine have had, from what they thought to doe. Perhaps I dream’d so once: But, God be prais’d, The _Clog_ which kept me downe, from being rais’d, Was chain’d so fast, that (if such _Dreames_ I had) My _thoughts_, and _longings_, are not now so mad. For, plaine I see, that, had my _Fortunes_ brought Such _Wealth_, at first, as my small _Wit_ hath sought; I might my selfe, and others, have undone, Instead of _Courses_, which I thought to runne. I finde my _Povertie_, for mee was fit; Yea, and a _Blessing_, greater than my _Wit_: And, whether, now, I _rich_ or _poore_ become, Tis nor much _pleasing_, nor much _troublesome_. _A =Mischiefe=, hardly can be done, Where =many-pow’rs= are knit in one._ [Illustration: VIRTUS UNITA FORTIOR. ILLVSTR. XLIII. _Book. 3_]