Hopelesse as helpelesse most might me suppose,
Whose meannesse seem’d their abiect breath to draw:
Yet did my breast that glorious fire inclose,
Which their dull purblind ignorance not saw,
Which still is setled vpon outward showes,
The vulgar’s iudgement euer is so raw,
Which the vnworthiest sottishly do loue
In their owne region properly that moue.
12.
Yet me my fortune so could not disguise,