I'me heighten'd by my ruine; and while I
Weepe ore the vault where the sad ashes lye,
My soule with thine doth hold commerce above;
Where we discerne the stratagems, which Love,
Hate, and ambition, use, to cozen man;
So fraile that every blast of honour can
Swell him above himselfe, each, adverse gust
Him and his glories shiver into dust.
How small seemes greatnesse here! How not a span
His empire, who commands the Ocean.