That they (attending on the Lot of Chance)
Neglect by Vertue, and Deserts, to clime.
Poore Heights they be which Fortune reares unto;
And, fickle is the Favour she bestowes:
To-day, she makes; to-morrow, doth undoe;
Builds up, and in an instant overthrowes.
On easie Wheeles, to Wealth, and Honours high,
She windes men oft, before they be aware;
And, when they dreame of most Prosperitie,
Downe, headlong, throwes them lower then they were.