Some Daubers I endeavour'd to remove, And to amend their artless Errours strove. My Skill in secret these with slander wound; With every Line I drew still faults were found; Till wearied, I at last my Work gave o're. } And _Amazia_ (I shall say no more) } Did me to my lov'd Privacy restore. } For this they think I must my Vertue change, For Envy, Malice, and for sweet Revenge. Me by themselves they judge, who would do so, And cause the King suspect me for his Foe. But by th'advice I give, you best will find Th'Integrity and Plainness of my Mind; And that I harbour not that vile intent Their Poets and their Malice do invent. Far be't from me, to be like Cursed _Cham_; A good Son strives to hide his Father's shame. A King, the Father of his Country is; His shame is every Act he doth amiss. Good and just Kings God's Image bear; but when Their Frailties let us see they are but Men, We cannot every Action so applaud, As if it came from an unerring God. Kings have their Passions, and deceiv'd may be, When b'others Ears and Eyes they hear and see: For Sycophants, of Courts the Bane and Curse, Make all things better than they are, or worse. To Evil prone, to Mischief ever bent, } Th'all Objects with false colours represent; } The Guilty clear, condemn the Innocent. } Thus, noble Prince, they you and me accuse With all the Venome Malice can infuse. _Baal_'s Priests, Hell, and our Foes, new Arts have got, The filthy Reliques of their former Plot; Whereby they would our Lives in danger bring, And make us cursed Traytors to the King. What mayn't these cunning men hope to atchieve, When by their Arts few men their Plot believe? When b'horrid ways, not known to _Jews_ before, Their Plot's transform'd, and laid now at our door? But fear not, Sir, we have a sure Defence, The Peoples Love, God, Law, and Innocence. Keep fast your Vertue, and you shall be blest, And let alone to God and Time the rest. The Noble Youth, with Vertues Robes arrai'd, Consider'd well what the wise _Hushai_ said. Desire of Power, though of Celestial Birth, Below, is ever intermixt with Earth: And all who do to hight of Place aspire, Have earthly Smoak mixt with their mounting Fire. Praise may debauch, and strong Ambition blind, Where heav'nly Vertue does not guard the Mind. But _Azaria_ so well understood, He left the Evil, and embrac'd the Good: Tho in his breast aspiring thoughts he found, Yet Loyalty still kept them within bound. And tho he might have Empire in his Eye, When to it by his bloud allay'd so nigh, Yet in his Soul such Virtue did remain, He by Rebellion would not Empire gain. Through every Vein his Loyal Bloud did run, Yet Royal too, as _Amazia_'s Son. About his noble Heart he felt it spring; Which let him know his Father was a King. If that to _Azaria_ were a Blot, His Father made it when he him begot: But Heav'n such Virtue moulded with his Soul, That his aspiring Lust it did controul. Thus to wise _Hushai_ he repli'd: I finde