Deserves our study? Merchants plough the maine And bring home th' Indies, yet aspire to more, By avarice in the possession poore. And yet that Idoll wealth we all admit Into the soules great temple. Busie wit Invents new Orgies, fancy frames new rites To show it's superstition, anxious nights Are watcht to win its favour: while the beast Content with Natures courtesie doth rest. Let man then boast no more a soule, since he Hath lost that great prerogative. But thee (Whom Fortune hath exempted from the heard Of vulgar men, whom vertue hath prefer'd Farre higher than thy birth) I must commend, Rich in the purchase of so sweete a friend. And though my fate conducts me to the shade Of humble quiet, my ambition payde With safe content, while a pure Virgin fame Doth raise me trophies in _Castara's_ name. No thought of glory swelling me above The hope of being famed for vertuous love. Yet wish I thee, guided by the better starres To purchase unsafe honour in the warres Or envied smiles at court; for thy great race, And merits, well may challenge th' highest place. Yet know, what busie path so-ere you tread To greatnesse, you must sleepe among the dead. [16] _To the Honourable my most honoured friend_, Wm. E. _Esquire_. 1635. _To_ CASTARA, _The vanity of Avarice_. Harke? how the traytor wind doth court The Saylors to the maine; To make their avarice his sport? A tempest checks the fond disdaine, They beare a safe though humble port. Wee'le sit my love upon the shore, And while proud billowes rise To warre against the skie, speake ore Our Loves so sacred misteries. And charme the Sea to th' calme it had before. Where's now my pride t' extend my fame Where ever statues are? And purchase glory to my name In the smooth court or rugged warre? My love hath layd the Devill, I am tame. I'de rather like the violet grow Unmarkt i'th shaded vale, Then on the hill those terrors know Are breath'd forth by an angry gale, There is more pompe above, more sweete below. Love, thou divine Philosopher (While covetous Landlords rent, And Courtiers dignity preferre) Instructs us to a sweete content, Greatnesse it selfe, doth in it selfe interre. _Castara_, what is there above The treasures we possesse? We two are all and one, wee move Like starres in th' orbe of happinesse. All blessings are Epitomiz'd in Love. _To my most honoured Friend and Kinsman_, R. St., _Esquire_.