Of action; nor is't safe, farre to retire.
Yet better lost ith' multitude
Of private men, then on the state t'intrude,
And hazard for a doubtfull smile,
My stocke of same, and inward peace to spoile.
Ile therefore nigh some murm'ring brooke
That wantons through my meddowes, with a booke
With my Castara, or some friend,
My youth not guilty of ambition spend.
To my own shade (if fate permit)