On Atlas shoulders, and from thence lookes downe,
Viewing how farre off other high ones creepe;
Rich, poore of reason, wander; all pale looking,
And trembling but to thinke of their sure deaths,270
Their lives so base are, and so rancke their breaths.
Which I teach Guise to heighten, and make sweet
With lifes deare odors, a good minde and name;
For which hee onely loves me, and deserves
My love and life, which through all deaths I vow:275
Resolving this (what ever change can be)