That through the blackest Storms, still points at Happiness.
Your Bodies the tall Barks, rib'd round with Goodness;
Your heavenly Souls the Pilots, thus I send you;
Thus I prepare your Voyage, Sound before ye,
And even as you Sail through this World's Vanity,
Discover Sholes, Rocks, Quicksands, cry out to ye,
Like a good Master, tack about for Honour:
The Court is Vertue's School; at least it should be;
Nearer the Sun the Mine lies, the Mettals purer:
Be it granted, if the Spring be once infected,
Those Branches that flow from him must run Muddy;
Say, you find some Sins there, and those no small ones,
And they like lazy Fits begin to shake ye:
Say, they affect your Strength, my happy Children,
Great things through greatest Hazards are atcheiv'd still.
And then they Shine, then Goodness has his Glory,
His Crown fast rivited, then Time moves under,
Where, through the Mist of Errors, like the Sun,
Through thick and pitchy Clouds, he breaks out Nobly.
Hon.
I thank you, Sir, you have made me half a Soldier,
I will to Court most willingly, most fondly.
And if there be such stirring things amongst 'em,
Such Travellers into Virginia,
As Fame reports, if they can win me, take me:
I think I have a close Ward, and a sure one;
A honest Mind I hope, 'tis Petticoat-proof,
Chain-proof, and Jewel-proof; I know 'tis gold Proof,
A Coach and Four Horses cannot draw me from it;
As for your handsome Faces, and filed Tongues,
Curl'd Millers Heads; I have another word for them,
And yet I'll Flatter too, as fast as they do,
And Lie, but not as lewdly: Come, be Valiant, Sister,
She that dares not stand the push o'th' Court, dares nothing,
And yet come off ungrazed: Sir, like you,
We both affect great Dangers now; and the World shall see
All Glory lies not in Man's Victory.
Viol.
I am very fearful,
Would I were stronger Built? you would have me honest?
Ar.
Or not at all, my Viola.
Viol.
I'll think on't.
For 'tis no easy Promise, and live there.
Do you think we shall do well?