As Providence were wanton with mankind:
Yet in this chaos some things do send forth
(Like jewels in the dark) a native worth.
He that derives his high nobility
Not from the mention of a pedigree;
Who scorns to boast the glories of his blood,
And thinks he can’t be great that is not good;
Who knows the world, and what we pleasure call,
Yet cannot sell one conscience for them all;
Who hates to hoard that gold with an excuse,