And here is poor Wat, and his mother lamenting over him.
If he had taken her advice, all had been well; for as he was going to mount, Wat, says she, don’t be so ambitious. Ambitious people generally tumble; and when once down, it is not easy to get up again. Remember what your poor father used to read about Cardinal Wolsey.
Farewell, a long farewell to all my greatness! This is the state of man: to-day he puts forth the tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, and bears his blushing honours thick upon him: The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, and when he thinks, good easy man, full surely his greatness is a ripening, nips his root, and then he falls as I do. I have ventured, like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, these many summers on a sea of glory; but far beyond my depth! My high-blown pride at length broke under me, and now has left me weary, and old with service, to the mercy of a rude stream that must for ever hide me. Vain pomp and glory of the world, I hate ye, I feel my heart new opened.
But Wilful would, and so down he tumbled, and lies there a warning to the obstinate and ambitious. Had he taken his mother’s advice, and rode upon the Roundabout, as Dick Stamp and Will Somer did, he might have whipped and spurred for an hour without doing any mischief, or receiving any hurt. But he was a proud and obstinate silly boy.
Descant on Time.
