Where one but goes abreast; keep then the path,
For Emulation hath a thousand sons,
That one by one pursue; if you give way,
Or hedge aside from the direct forth right,
Like to an entered tide, they all rush by,
And leave you hindmost;——
Or, like a gallant horse fall’n in first rank,
O’er-run and trampled on: then what they do in present,
Tho’ less than yours in past must o’ertop yours:
For Time is like a fashionable host,