Forgive my envie to the World; while I Commend those sober thoughts, perswade you The glorious troubles of the Court. For though The vale lyes open to each overflow, And in the humble shade we gather ill And aguish ayres: yet lightnings oftner kill Oth' naked heights of mountaines, whereon we May have more prospect, not securitie. For when with losse of breath, we have orecome Some steepe ascent of power, and forc'd a roome On the so envi'd hill; how doe our hearts Pant with the labour, and how many arts More subtle must we practise, to defend Our pride from sliding, then we did t' ascend? How doth successe delude the mysteries And all th' involv'd designements of the wise? How doth that Power, our Pollitickes call chance, Racke them till they confesse the ignorance Of humane wit? Which, when 'tis fortified So strong with reason that it doth deride All adverse force oth' sudden findes its head Intangled in a spiders slender thread. Cœlestiall Providence! How thou dost mocke The boast of earthly wisdome? On some rocke When man hath a structure, with such art, It doth disdaine to tremble at the dart Of thunder, or to shrinke oppos'd by all The angry winds, it of it selfe doth fall, Ev'n in a calme so gentle that no ayre Breaths loude enough to stirre a Virgins haire! But misery of judgement: Though past time Instruct us by th' ill fortune of their crimes, And shew us how we may secure our state From pittied ruine, by anothers fate; Yet we contemning all such sad advice, Pursue to build though on a precipice. But you (my Lord) prevented by foresight To engage your selfe to such an unsafe height, And in your selfe both great and rich enough Refused t'expose your vessell to the rough Uncertaine sea of businesse: whence even they Who make the best returne, are forc't to say: The wealth we by our worldly traffique gaine, Weighes light if ballanc'd with the feare or paine. _Paucitatem dierum meorum nuncia mihi._ DAVID. Tell me O great All knowing God! What period Hast thou unto my dayes assign'd? Like some old leafelesse tree, shall I Wither away: or violently Fall by the axe, by lightning, or the Wind? Heere, where I first drew vitall breath Shall I meete death? And finde in the same vault a roome Where my fore-fathers ashes sleepe? Or shall I dye, where none shall weepe My timelesse fate, and my cold earth intombe? Shall I 'gainst the swift _Parthians_ fight And in their flight Receive my death? Or shall I see That envied peace, in which we are Triumphant yet, disturb'd by warre; And perish by th' invading enemie?