As are the passions of uncertain man.
Who puts it in all colours, all attires,
To serve his ends, and make his courses hold.
He sees, that let deceit work what it can,
Plot and contrive base ways to high desires;
That the all-guiding Providence doth yet
All disappoint, and mocks this smoke of wit.
Nor is he mov’d with all the thunder-cracks
Of tyrants’ threats, or with the surly brow
Of pow’r, that proudly sits on others’ crimes: