A Common-wealthe, by this, is right expreste: Bothe him, that rules, and those, that doe obaye: Or suche, as are the heads aboue the rest, Whome here, the Lorde in highe estate dothe staye: By whose supporte, the meaner sorte doe liue, And vnto them all reuerence dulie giue. Which when I waied: I call’d vnto my minde Your CVMBERMAIRE, that fame so farre commendes: A stately seate, whose like is harde to finde, Where mightie IOVE the horne of plentie lendes: With fishe, and foule, and cattaile sondrie flockes, Where christall springes doe gushe out of the rockes. There, fertile fieldes; there, meadowes large extende: There, store of grayne: with water, and with wood. And, in this place, your goulden time you spende, Vnto your praise, and to your countries good: This is the hiue; your tennaunts, are the bees: And in the same, haue places by degrees.” By the side of these stanzas let us place for comparison what Shakespeare wrote on the same subject,—the Commonwealth of Bees,—and I am persuaded we shall perceive much similarity of thought, if not of expression. In _Henry V._ (act i. sc. 2, l. 178, vol. iv. p. 502), the Duke of Exeter and the Archbishop of Canterbury enter upon an argument respecting a well-governed state,— “_Exe._ While that the armed hand doth fight abroad, The advised head defends itself at home; For government, though high and low and lower, Put into parts, doth keep in one consent, Congreeing in a full and natural close, Like music. _Cant._ Therefore doth heaven divide The state of man in divers functions, Setting endeavour in continual motion: To which is fixed, as an aim or butt, Obedience: for so work the honey-bees, Creatures that by a rule in nature teach The act of order to a peopled kingdom. They have a king[157] and officers of sorts; Where some, like magistrates, correct at home, Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad, Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings, Make boot upon the summer’s velvet buds, Which pillage they with merry march bring home To the tent-royal of their emperor; Who, busied in his majesty, surveys The singing masons building roofs of gold, The civil citizens kneading up the honey, The poor mechanic porters crowding in Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate, The sad-eyed justice, with his surly hum. Delivering o’er to executors pale The lazy yawning drone.”