_Pisc_. Trust me, Scholer, I thank you heartily for these Verses, they be choicely good, and doubtless made by a lover of Angling: Come, now drink a glass to me, and I wil requite you with a very good Copy of Verses; it is a farewel to the vanities of the world, and some say written by D'r. D, but let them bee writ by whom they will, he that writ them had a brave soul, and must needs be possest with happy thoughts at the time of their composure. _Farwel ye guilded follies, pleasing troubles, Farwel ye honour'd rags, ye glorious bubbles; Fame's but a hollow eccho, gold pure clay, Honour the darling but of one short day. Beauty (th'eyes idol) but a damask'd skin, State but a golden prison, to live in And torture free-born minds; imbroider'd trains Meerly but Pageants, for proud swelling vains, And blood ally'd to greatness is alone Inherited, not purchas'd, nor our own. Fame, honor, beauty, state, train, blood & birth, Are but the fading blossomes of the earth. I would be great, but that the Sun doth still, Level his rayes against the rising hill: I would be high, but see the proudest Oak Most subject to the rending Thunder-Stroke; I would be rich, but see men too unkind Dig in the bowels of the richest mind; I would be wise, but that I often see The Fox suspected whilst the Ass goes free; I would be fair, but see the fair and proud Like the bright Sun, oft setting in a cloud; I would be poor, but know the humble grass Still trampled on by each unworthy Asse: Rich, hated; wise, suspected; scorn'd, if poor; Great, fear'd; fair, tempted; high, stil envi'd more I have wish'd all, but now I wish for neither, Great, high, rich, wise, nor fair, poor I'l be rather. Would the world now adopt me for her heir, Would beauties Queen entitle me the Fair, Fame speak me fortunes Minion, could I vie Angels w'th India, w'th a speaking eye Command bare heads, bow'd knees, strike Justice dumb As wel as blind and lame, or give a tongue To stones, by Epitaphs, be call'd great Master, In the loose Rhimes of every Poetaster Could I be more then any man that lives, Great, fair, rich, wise in all Superlatives; Yet I more freely would these gifts resign, Then ever fortune would have made them mine And hold one minute of this holy leasure, Beyond the riches of this empty pleasure.