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3.
Scarse is the sonne of Chus now waxen twelue yeere old,
But straight ou'r all his Peeres he playes the Tyrant bold.
He ouer-growes them all, and of his power to come
Vpon a trim foreshow he layes the ground with some:
And in his childish hand for scepter bearing reeds
Among the shephard-swaines beginn'th his prentise-deeds.
Then knowing that the man, whose courage doth aspire
Vnto the deemed blisse of an awfull Empire,
Must passe in braue exploits the doltish vulgar sort,
Or else by seeming good obtaine a good report;
He wasteth not the night in downie leather-bed,
Nor yet the day in shade; but, young, accustomed
Himselfe to good and ill, and made ambitiouslie
His pillowes of a rocke, his curtaines of the skie.
To toyle is his delight, to shoot, his chiefest game,
His baby-play the lysts, his hawk some Sparrow tame:
His most delicious meat the flesh of tender Kid
Which trembleth yet, and scarse is out of skin yslid.
Sometime he sports himselfe to conquer with a breath
Some craggy rocks ascent that ouerpeers the heath;
Or else some raging flood against the streame diuide,
That, swolne with raine, hath drou'n a hundred brigs aside,
And with a bounding course vnbridled gallops fast
All ouerthwart the stones in narrow valley cast:
Or else straight aft'r his throw to catch againe his dart,
Or else by footmanship to take the Hinde or Hart.