All things are open to these two events,
Or to rewards, or else to punishments.
488. SHAME NO STATIST.
Shame is a bad attendant to a state:
He rents his crown that fears the people's hate.
489. TO SIR CLIPSEBY CREW.
Since to the country first I came
I have lost my former flame:
And, methinks, I not inherit,
As I did, my ravish'd spirit.
If I write a verse or two,
'Tis with very much ado;
In regard I want that wine
Which should conjure up a line.
Yet, though now of Muse bereft,
I have still the manners left
For to thank you, noble sir,
For those gifts you do confer
Upon him who only can
Be in prose a grateful man.
490. UPON HIMSELF.
I could never love indeed;
Never see mine own heart bleed:
Never crucify my life,
Or for widow, maid, or wife.
I could never seek to please
One or many mistresses:
Never like their lips to swear
Oil of roses still smelt there.
I could never break my sleep,
Fold mine arms, sob, sigh, or weep:
Never beg, or humbly woo
With oaths and lies, as others do.
I could never walk alone;
Put a shirt of sackcloth on:
Never keep a fast, or pray
For good luck in love that day.