This man is freed from servile bands
Of hope to rise or fear to fall;
Lord of himself, though not of lands;
And having nothing, yet hath all.
SIR HENRY WOTTON.
[Notes: Sir Henry Wotton (1568-1639). A poet, ambassador, and miscellaneous writer, in the reign of James I.
Born or taught = whether from natural character or by training.
Nor ruin make oppressors great = nor his ruin, &c.
How deepest wounds are given with praise. How praise may only cover some concealed injury.]
* * * * *
MAN'S SERVANTS.
For us the winds do blow;
The earth doth rest, heaven move, and fountains flow.
Nothing we see but means our good,
As our delight, or as our treasure:
The whole is either cupboard of our food,
Or cabinet of pleasure.
The stars have us to bed;
Night draws the curtain, which the sun withdraws;
Music and light attend our head;
All things unto our flesh are kind
In their descent and being; to our mind
In their ascent and cause.