_Allophanes._ Dreamer, thou art. 55 Think'st thou fantastique that thou hast a part In the East-Indian fleet, because thou hast A little spice, or Amber in thy taste? Because thou art not frozen, art thou warme? Seest thou all good because thou seest no harme? 60 The earth doth in her inward bowels hold Stuffe well dispos'd, and which would faine be gold, But never shall, except it chance to lye, So upward, that heaven gild it with his eye; As, for divine things, faith comes from above, 65 So, for best civill use, all tinctures move From higher powers; From God religion springs, Wisdome, and honour from the use of Kings. Then unbeguile thy selfe, and know with mee, That Angels, though on earth employd they bee, 70 Are still in heav'n, so is hee still at home That doth, abroad, to honest actions come. Chide thy selfe then, O foole, which yesterday Might'st have read more then all thy books bewray; Hast thou a history, which doth present 75 A Court, where all affections do assent Unto the Kings, and that, that Kings are just? And where it is no levity to trust? Where there is no ambition, but to'obey, Where men need whisper nothing, and yet may; 80 Where the Kings favours are so plac'd, that all Finde that the King therein is liberall To them, in him, because his favours bend To vertue, to the which they all pretend? Thou hast no such; yet here was this, and more, 85 An earnest lover, wise then, and before. Our little Cupid hath sued Livery, And is no more in his minority, Hee is admitted now into that brest Where the Kings Counsells and his secrets rest. 90 What hast thou lost, O ignorant man? _Idios._ I knew All this, and onely therefore I withdrew. To know and feele all this, and not to have Words to expresse it, makes a man a grave Of his owne thoughts; I would not therefore stay 95 At a great feast, having no Grace to say. And yet I scap'd not here; for being come Full of the common joy, I utter'd some; Reade then this nuptiall song, which was not made Either the Court or mens hearts to invade, 100 But since I'am dead, and buried, I could frame No Epitaph, which might advance my fame So much as this poore song, which testifies I did unto that day some sacrifice. EPITHALAMION. I. _The time of the Mariage_.