We rarely meet occasions, Sir, wherein
A hearts whole stock of courage may be seen:
Valour acts more, or less, as time doth fit,
And as occasion serves or hinders it,
And manly, or effeminate, appears
At the discretion of the censurers.
The common sort, whose understandings be
By ignorance limited to what they see,
Proportion force by its effects, and guess
At Valour, as effects are more or less;
Expecting vainly, that who wonders do,
Blest once by Fortune, should do always so.
After an act illustriously bright,
All that seem less darken that actions light.
Men look we always should in every place
Perform our actions with an equal grace;
Without considering in th' occasion
What could have been, or more, or better done;
Nor seeing that in actions of less fame,
Th' occasion's less, the vertue still the same.
Great names by this injustice are defac'd,
Mens first Acts honours perish in their last:
And who once reaches a supream renown,
If he will hold it there, must there sit down.
I shall not boast what honour I have got,
Your self, great Sir, saw my three Combats fought:
But 'twill be hard ever again to find
An opportunity of such a kind,
To crown my Valours worth with a success
That must not after these exploits go less.
So that to give my Fame immortal breath,
I have no way, but by immediate death.
I should have dy'd before, nor liv'd so long;
I've liv'd already to my Glory's wrong.
A man like me perceives his name decays,
When but in danger of the least disgrace;
And my own hand e're this had clear'd the doubt,
But my blood's yours, and dare not 〈◊〉〈◊〉 out,