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For when his proud feet scorn to touch the mold,
His head's à pris’ner in a gaol of gold.
In numb'ring subjects, he but numbers care ;

And when with shouts the people do begin,
Let him suppose, th' applause but prayers are,

That he may 'scape the danger he is in ;
Wherein t' adventure he so boldly dares :

The multitude hath multitudes of sin;
And he that first doth cry, God save the king,
Is the first man, him evil news doth bring.
Loft in his own, mified in others ways;

Sooth'd with deceits, and fed with flatteries ;
Himself displeasing, wicked men to please ;

Obey'd no more than he shall tyrannize ;
The least in safety, being most at ease;

With one friend winning many enemies :
And when he fittech in his greatest state,
They that behold him most, bear him most hate.

Drayton's Barons Wars.
One crown is guarded with a thousand swords :
To mean estates, mean sorrows are but shewn ;
But crowns have cares, whose workings be unknown.

Drayton's Dudley to Jane Grey.

While kings are strong, What they'll but think, and not what is, is wrong: Passion is reason, when it speaks from might. I tell thee, man; nor kings, nor gods exempt, They both grow pale, if once they find contempt.

Marston's Sophonisba. Why man, I never was a prince till now. 'Tis not the bai ed pate, the bended knees, Gilt tip staves, Tyrian purple, chairs of state, Troov: of py'd butterflies, that flutter still In greatncis summer, that confirm a prince : 'Tis not th' unsav'ry breath of multitudes, Shouting, and clapping, with confused din, That makes a prince : No, Lucio, he's a king,

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A true, right king, that dares do ought, fave wrong ;
Fears nothing mortal, but to be unjust ;
Who is not blown up with the flaet'ring puffs
Of {pungy fycophants; who ftands unmovid,
Despight the justling of opinion :
Who can enjoy himself, maugre the throng,
That strive to press his quiet out of him ;
Who sits upon Jove's foot-ftool, as I do,
Adorning, not affecting majesty :
Whose brow is wreathed with the silver crown
Of clear content : This, Lucio, is a king-
And of this empire, ev'ry man's poffefs'd,
That's worth his soul.

Marston's First Part of Antonio and Mellida,
Wretched state of kings that itanding high ;
Their faults are marks, shot at by ev'ry eye.

Dekker's Match me in London. Alas! what are we kings ? Why do you gods place us above the rest, To be serv'd, flatter'd, and ador'd; till we Believe we hold within our hands your thunder : And when we come to try the pow'r we have, There's not a leaf fakes at our threatnings ?

Beaumont and Fletcher's Philaser. That king stands furest, who by's virtue rises More than by birth or blood. That prince is rare, Who strives in youth, to save his age from care.

Middleton's Phænix. Misery of princes, That must of force be censur'd by their slaves ! Not only blam’d, for doing things are ill ; But, for not doing all, that all men will.

Webster's White Devil. The lives of princes, should like dials move; Whose regular ex. inple is fo ftrong, They make the times by them go right, or wrong.

Webster, ibid. G 6

And

And what is't makes this bleffed government;
But a most provident council, who dare freely
Inform him the corruption of the times ?
Though some of th' court hold it prefumption,
To instruct princes what they ought to do;
It is a noble duty to inform them,
What they ought to foresee.

Webfter's Dutchefs of Malfy.
Some would think the fouls
Of princes were brought forth by some more weighty
Cause, than those of meaner persons : They are
Deceiv'd, there's the same hand to them; the like
Passions sway them ; the same reason that makes
A vicar go to law for a tythe-pig,
And undo his neighbours, makes them spoil
A whole province, and batter down goodly
Cities with the cannon.

Webster's Dutchess of Malfy. Kings do often grant That happiness to others, which themselves do want.

Dauborne's Poor Man's Comfort

That's an unhappy ftate,
When kings must fear to love, left fubjects hate.

Goffe's Courageous Turk. Happy's that prince, that ere he rules, shall know, Where the chief errors of his state do grow.

Swetnam, the Woman Hater.

For a king
Not to be forced, is a glorious state ;
But not persuaded, is a dang'rous fate.
For tho' the faults of private men, may

be
Stay'd in themselves : A prince's may redound,
And be reflex'd on thousands : Thus at sea,

Men by a ship-boy's fault are rarely drown'd;
But if the pilot shall a fault commit,
They're caft upon the ground, or funk, or split.

Aleyn's Poitiers.

Oh

Oh! why do princes love to be deceiv'd ?
And ev’n do force abuses on themselves?
Their ears are so with pleasing speech beguild ;
That truth they malice, flatt'ry truth account :
And their own soul and understanding loft ;
Go, what they are, to seek in other mens.

Nero,
Oh the miserable
Condition of a prince ! who though he vary
More shapes than Proteus, in his mind and manners ;
He cannot win an universal suffrage,
From the many-headed monster, multitude :
Like Æsop's foolish frogs, they trample on him,
As on a senseless block, if his government be easy;
And if he prove a stork, they croke, and rail
Against him as a tyrant.

Maffinger's Emperor of the East. Wherefore pay you This adoration to a sinful creature ? I'm Alesh and blood, as you are; sensible Of heat, and cold ; as much a slave unto The tyranny of my passions, as the meanest of my poor subjects. The proud attributes By oil'd-tongue fatt'ry impos'd upon us, As facred, glorious, high, invincible, The deputy of heaven, and in that Omnipotent ; with all false titles else, Coin’d to abuse our frailty, though compounded, And by the breath of fycophants apply'd, Cure not the least fit of an ague in us. We may give poor men riches ; confer honcurs On undeservers ; raife, or ruin such As are beneath us; and with this puff'd up, Ambition would persuade us to forget That we are men : But he that fits above us, And to whom, at our utmost rate, we are But pageant properties ; derides our weakness: me, to whom you kneel, 'tis most apparent:

Can

In

Can I call back yesterday, with all their aids
That bow unto my scepter ? or restore
My mind to that tranquillity, and peace
It then enjoy'd ? can I make Eudoxia chaste ?
Or vile Paulinus honest ?

Maslinger's Emperor of the Eas.
I bow, and give
My crown, pray take it ; and with it, give me leave
To tell you, what it brings the hapless wearer,
Beside the out-side glory: For I am
Read in the miserable fate of kings.
You think it glorious to command, but are
More fubject than the poorelt pays you duty ;
And mult obey your fears, your want of sleep,
Rebellion from your vasals, wounds ev'n from
Their very tongues, whose quietness you sweat for ;
For whose dear health you waste and fright your
Strength to paleness, and your blood into a frost.
You are not certain of a friend or servant,
To build your faith upon ; your life is but
Your subject's murmur, and your death their sacrifice.

Shirley's Politician. When kings leave Their justice, and throw shame upon defervers ; Patience so wounded, turns a fury.

Shirley's Young Admiral. A king that fosters men so dipt in blood; May be callid merciful, but never good.

Sam. Rowley's Noble Spanish Soldier.

-Oh happy kings
Whose thrones are raised in their subjects hearts !

John Ford's Perkin Warbeck.
O'zis our folly, folly, my dear friend,
Because we see th' activity of states,
To flatter them with fake eternity!
Why longer than the dweller latts the house?
Why should the world be always, and not man?

Sure

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