Shall then my life regard taynt that choice faire? First will I perrish in this liquid round, Neuer shall Sunne-burnt _Spanyards_ tongue endeare _Iberian_ eares with what shall me confound, The life I haue, I for my Mistris beare, Curst were that life, should it her scepter wound, And trebble cursed be that damned thought, Which in my minde hath any fayntnes wrought. Now, for Philosophie defends thy theame, Euen selfe Philosophie shall arme my stile, Rich buskin'd _Seneca_, that did declaime, And first in _Rome_ our tragicke pompe compile, Saith, _Fortitude_ is that which in extreme And certaine hazard all base feares exile: It guides, saith he, the noble minde from farre, Through frost, and fier, to conquer honors warre. Honie-tongd _Tullie_, Mermaid of our eares, Affirmes no force, can force true _Fortitude_, It with our bodies, no communion beares, The soule and spyrit, sole doth it include; It is that part of honestie which reares The hart to heauen, and euer doth obtrude Faint feare, and doubt, still taking his delight In perrills, which exceed all perrills might. _Patience, Perseuerance, Greatnes_, and _Strong Trust_, These pages are to _Fortitude_ their King, _Patience_ that suffers, and esteemeth iust, What euer woe, for vertue fortunes bring; _Perseuerance_, holds constant what we must, _Greatnes_, that still effects the greatest thing. And armed _Trust_, which neuer can dispaire, But hopes good hap; how euer fatall deare. The Roman _Sergius_, hauing lost his hand, Slew with one hand foure in a single fight, A thing all reason euer did with-stand. But that bright _Fortitude_ spred forth her light _Pompey_, by storme held from _th' Italyan_ land, And all his sailors quaking in his sight, First hoisted saile, and cry'd amidst the strife, There's neede I goe, no neede to saue my life. _Agis_ that guilt the _Lacedemon_ streete, Intending one day battaile with his foes, By counsaile was repeld, as thing vnmeete, The enemie beeing ten to one in shoes; But he reply'd, Tis needful that his feete Which many leads, should leade to many bloes: And one being good, an Armie is for ten Foes to religion, and known naughty men. To him that told _Dienecus_, his foes Couer'd the Sun with darts and armed speares, Hee made reply, Thy newes is ioy in woes, Wee'le in the shadow fight, and conquer feares. And from the _Polands_ words my humor floes, I care for naught but falling of the Spheares. Thunder affrights the Infants in the schooles, And threatnings are the conquerors of fooles. As these, my case is not so desperate, And yet, then these, my darre shall be no lesse: If this in them, for fame was wondred at, Then this in mee, shall my desiers expresse; Neuer shall _Greece_, nor _Rome_, nor Heathen state, With shining honor, _Albions_ shine depresse, Though their great circuits yeelds their acts large bounds, Yet shall they neuer darr for deeper wounds.