Pitie it is, that to one vertuous man That marke him lent to gentrie to aduance, Which first by noble industrie he wan, His baser issue after should inhance, And the rude slaue not any good that can, Such should thrust downe by what is his by chance: As had not he been first that him did raise, Nere had his great heire wrought his grandsire’s praise. 15. How weake art thou that makest it thy end To heape such worldly dignities on thee, When vpon fortune only they depend, And by her changes gouerned must bee? Besides the dangers still that such attend, Liuel’est of all men purtraied out in mee, When that, for which I hated was of all, Soon’st from me fled, scarse tarrying for my fall. 16. You that but boast your ancestors proud stile, And the large stem whence your vaine greatnes grew, When you your selues are ignorant and vile, Nor glorious thing dare actually pursue, That all good spirits would vtterly exile, Doubting their worth should else discouer you, Giuing your selues vnto ignoble things: Base I proclaime you though deriu’d from kings. 17. Vertue, but poore, God in this earth doth place ’Gainst the rude world to stand vp in his right, To suffer sad affliction and disgrace, Not ceasing to pursue her with despight: Yet when of all she is accounted base, And seeming in most miserable plight, Out of her power new life to her doth take, Least then dismai’d when all do her forsake. 18. That is the man of an vndaunted spirit, For her deare sake that offereth him to dye, For whom, when him the world doth disinherit, Looketh vpon it with a pleased eye, What’s done for vertue thinking it doth merit, Daring the proudest menaces defie, More worth then life, how ere the base world rate him, Belou’d of heauen, although the earth doth hate him. 19. Iniurious time, vnto the good vniust, O, how may weake posteritie suppose Euer to haue their merit from the dust, ’Gainst them thy partialitie that knowes! To thy report, O, who shall euer trust, Triumphant arches building vnto those Allow’d the longest memorie to haue, That were the most vnworthie of a graue? 20. But my cleere mettle had that powerfull heat, As it not turn’d with all that fortune could: Nor when the world me terriblest did threat, Could that place win[2011] which my hie thoughts did hold, That waxed still more prosperously great, The more the world me stroue to haue control’d, On my owne columnes constantly to stand, Without the false helpe of another’s hand. 21.