I fwear, 'tis better to be lowly born,
And range with humble livers in content,
Than to be perk'd up in a glift'ring grief,
And wear a golden forrow.
Shakespear's King Henry VIII.
Didft thou ne'er read in difference of good, 'Tis more to fhine in virtue than in blood..
Johnfon's Cafe is alter'd. 'Tis but in vain of my defccnt to boast,
When heav'n's lamp fhines, all other lights be loft:
Falcons feem
poor, the eagle fitting by,
Whofe brood furveys the fun with open eye.
If not base-born, detracts not from the bounty
Of nature's freedom, or an honeft birth.
Nobility claim'd by the right of blood,
Shews chiefly, that our ancestors defir'd
What we inherit; but that man whofe actions
Purchase a real merit to himself,
And ranks him in the file of praife and honour,
Creates his own advancement.
Beaumont and Fletcher's Fair Maid of the Inn.
Think not that your glories fall,
Derived from a mean original ;
Since lights that may have pow'r to check the dark,
Can have their luftre from the fmalleft fpark.
Not from nobility doth virtue fpring,
But virtue makes fit nobles for a king.
From higheft nefts are croaking ravens born,
When sweetest nightingales fit in the thorn."
1. Madam, you haply fcorn thevulgar earth
Of which I ftand compacted: And becaufe
I cannot add a fplendor to my name,
Reflective from a royal pedigree,
You interdict my language: but be pleas'd
To know, the ashes of
my ancestors
If inter-mingled in the tomb with kings,
Could hardly be diftinguifh'd. The ftars shoot
An equal infl'ence on th'open cottage,
Where the poor fhepherd's child is rudely nurs'd,
As on the cradle where the prince is rock'd
With care and whisper.
2. And what hence infer you?
1. That no diftinction is 'tween man and man,
But as his virtues add to him a glory,
Or vices cloud him.
2. But yet heaven hath made
Subordination, and degrees of men,
And ev❜n religion doth authorize us
To rule; and tells the fubject 'tis a crime
And shall meet death, if he difdajn obedience.
1. Kind heav'n made us all equal, till rude strength,
Or wicked policy, ufurp'd a pow'r,
And for religion, that exhorts t'obey
Only for its own ease.
Habbington's Queen of Arragen.
Put off your giant titles, then I can
Stand in your judgments blank an equal man,
Though hills advanced are above the plain,
They are but higher earth, nor muft difdain.
Alliance with the vale: We fee a spade
Can level them, and make a mount a glade.
Howe'er we differ in the herald's book,
He that mankind's extraction fhall look
In nature's rolls, muft grant we all agree,
In our beft parts, immortal pedigree.
Dr. Henry King, Bishop of Chicheffer.
1. This fhepherd fure is fprung from noble race,
What fweet behaviour does his perfon grace?
2. No matter how defcended from his birth,
The pureft gold itself was once but earth.
They wear the badge of honour, who are known,
Not by their father's actions, but their own.
Dover's Roman Generals,
He wealth, not birth, preferr'd to council's place;
For council is for ufe, not ornament;
Souls are alike, of rich and ancient race,
Though bodies claim diftinction by descent.
Sir W. Davenant's Gondibert.
BLINDNESS.
Where fome time stood the beauty of this face,
Lamps clearly lighted as the vestal flame,
Is now a dungeon, a diftrefsful place,
A harbour fit for infamy and shame;
Which but with horror one can scarcely name :
Out of whofe dark grates misery and grief,
Starved for vengeance daily beg relief.
The day abhors me, and from me doth fly,
Night ftill me follows, yet too long doth stay,
Th'one I o'ertake not, though it ftill be nigh,
Th'other coming, vanifheth away,
But what availeth either night or day?
All's one to me, ftill day, or ever night,
My light is darkness, and my darkness light.
Drayton
The wretched'st thing, the most despised beast,
Enjoys that fenfe as gen'rally as we,
The very gnat, or what than that is least,
Of fight by nature kindly is made free.
What thing hath mouth to feed, but eyes to fee?
O, that a tyrant then should me deprave
Of that, which elfe all living creatures have!
This fellow must have a rare understanding,
For nature recompenceth the defects
Of one part, with redundance in another:
Blind men have excellent mem'ries, and the tongue
'Thus indifpos'd, there's treasure in the intellect.
O happiness of blindnefs! now no beauty
Inflames my luft; no others good, my envy;
Or mifery, my pity; no man's wealth
Draws my refpect; nor poverty, my fcorn;
Yet ftill I fee enough! man to himself
Is a large profpect, rais'd above the level
Of his low creeping thoughts; if then I have
A world within myself, that world shall be
My empire; there I'll reign, commanding freely,
And willingly obey'd, fecure from fear
Of foreign forces, or domeftick treasons,
And hold a monarchy more free, more abfolute
Than in my father's feat; and looking down
With fcorn, or pity, on the flipp❜ry ftate
Of kings, will tread upon the neck of fate.
Where am I now?
I thought the way to death had been fo broad,
Tho' I were blind, I could not mifs the road :
Death's lodgings fuch perpetual darkness have,
And I feem nothing but a walking grave.
-Virginia—I must never hope to fee:
All nature's windows are fhut up in me :
The fun to me brings an unufeful light;
About me now I always carry night.
Sir Robert Howard's Veftal Virgin.
BOASTING.
For then we wound our modesty, and make
Foul the clearness of our defervings, when
Of ourselves we publish them.
Shakespear's All's well that ends well.
O fove! let it become me
To boast my deeds, when he, whom they concern,
If valour dwell in vaunting;
In what a phrafe he speaks, as if his actions
Could be fet off in nothing but a noise;
Sure he has a drum in his mouth.
Beaumont and Fletcher's Mad Lover.
Alas, my miferable mafter! what fudds
Art thou wafh'd into? thou art born to be
Scorn'd of ev'ry carted, community,
And yet he'll out crack a German when he
Is drunk, or a Spaniard after he hath eaten
A fumatho, that he hath lien with that,
And that, and t'other lady, that he lay
Laft night in fuch a maiden's chamber, t'other
Night in fuch a countess's couch, to-night
He lies in fuch a lady's clofet, when poor
I know all this while he ly'd in his throat.
When he that did the act is commentator.
Shirley's Contention of Ajax and Ulysses for Achilles'
Armour.
Of a received favour, ought to be
Punish'd as facrilegious perfons are,
'Cause he doth violate that facred thing,
Pure, fpotless honour. But it may be seen,
And yet not prostitute. I would not fmother
My joys, and make my happiness a stealth.
A book! Oh rare one !
Be not, as is our fangled world, a garment
Nobler than that it covers.
1. Let them be burnt! O, how ridiculous
Appears the fenate's brainless diligence,
Who think they can, with prefent pow'r, extinguish
The memory of all fucceeding times!
2. 'Tis true, when, contrary, the punishment
Of wit, doth make th'authority encrease.
Nor do they ought, that use this cruelty
Of interdiction, and this rage of burning,
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