Unhappy men are they, whose Ignorance So slaves them to the _Fortunes_ of the Time, That they (attending on the Lot of _Chance_) Neglect by _Vertue_, and _Deserts_, to clime. Poore _Heights_ they be which _Fortune_ reares unto; And, fickle is the _Favour_ she bestowes: To-day, she makes; to-morrow, doth undoe; Builds up, and in an instant overthrowes. On easie _Wheeles_, to Wealth, and Honours high, She windes men oft, before they be aware; And, when they dreame of most _Prosperitie_, Downe, headlong, throwes them lower then they were. You, then, that seeke a more assur’d estate, On good, and honest _Objects_, fixe your _Minde_, And follow _Vertue_, that you may a _Fate_ Exempt from feare of Change, or Dangers, finde. For, he that’s _Vertuous_, whether high or low His _Fortune_ seemes (or whether foule or faire His _Path_ he findes) or whether friend, or foe, The _World_ doth prove; regards it not a haire. His _Losse_ is _Gaine_; his _Poverty_ is _Wealth_; The Worlds _Contempt_, he makes his _Diadem_; In _Sicknesse_, he rejoyceth, as in _Health_: Yea, _Death_ it selfe, becommeth _Life_, to him. He feares no disrespect, no bitter scorne, Nor subtile plottings, nor Oppressions force; Nay, though the World should topsie-turvie turne, It cannot fright him, nor divert his Course. Above all Earthly powres his _Vertue_ reares him; And, up with _Eglets_ wings, to Heav’n it beares him. _A fickle =Woman= wanton growne, Preferres a =Crowd=, before a =Crowne=._ [Illustration: NON SCEPTRO SED PLECTRO DVCITVR ILLVSTR. VII. _Book. 1._]