This glory round about me hath thrown beams:
I have stood upon the top of Fortune’s wheel,
And backward turn’d the iron screw of fate.
The destinies have spun a silken thread
About my life; yet thus I cast aside
The shape of majesty, and on my knee
To this Imperial state lowly resign
This usurpation; wiping off your fears
Which stuck so hard upon me.’
This is enough to shew the unabated vigour of the author’s style. This strain is certainly doing justice to the pride of ambition, and the imputed majesty of kings.