MORTIMER

This Rise is made, yet! and we now stand, ranked, To view about us, all that were above us! Nought hinders now our prospect, all are even, We walk upon a Level. Mortimer Is a great Lord of late, and a new thing! — A Prince, and Earl, and Cousin to the King. At what a diverse price, do diverse men Act the same things! Another might have had Perhaps the Hurdle, or at least the Axe, For what I have this Crownet, Robes, and Wax. There is a Fate, that flies with towering spirits Home to the mark, and never checks at conscience. Poor plodding Priests, and preaching Friars may make Their hollow Pulpits, and the empty Isles Of Churches ring with that round word: But we That draw the subtle, and more piercing air, In that sublimed region of Court, Know all is good, we make so, and go on Secured by the prosperity of our crimes. To day, is Mortimer made Earl of March. For what? For that, the very thinking it Would make a Citizen start! some politic Tradesman Curl with the Caution of a Constable! But I, who am no common Council man, Knew, injuries of that dark nature done Were to be thoroughly done, and not be left To fear of a revenge. They'are light offences Which admit that. The great ones get above it. Man does not nurse a deadlier piece of folly To his high temper, and brave soul, then that Of fancying goodness, and a seal to live by So differing from men life. As if with Lyons, Bears, Tigers, Wolves, and all those beasts of Prey, He would affect to be a Sheep! Can man Neglect what is, so, to attain what should be, As rather he will call on his own ruin, Then work to assure his safety? I should think When amongst a world of bade, none can be good, (I mean so absolutely good, and perfect, As our religious Confessors would have us) It is enough, we do decline the rumour Of doing monstrous things: And, yet, if those Were of emolument, unto our ends, Even of those, the wiseman will make friends For all the brand, and safely do the ill, As Usurers rob, or our Physicians kill. My Lord! sweet Mortimer! My Q. my Mistress! My Sovereign! nay, my Goddess! and my Juno! What name, or title, as a mark of Power Upon me, should I give you? Can you fallen under those? But now redeemed, and set at liberty, Queen of your self, and them.