To see and fore-see, is stark blind her selfe;

And as illiterate men say Latine prayers5

By rote of heart and dayly iteration,

Not knowing what they say, so Nature layes

A deale of stuffe together, and by use,

Or by the meere necessity of matter,

Ends such a work, fills it, or leaves it empty10

Of strength, or vertue, error, or cleare truth,

Not knowing what she does; but usually

Gives that which we call merit to a man,

And beliefe must arrive him on huge riches,

Honour and happinesse, that effects his ruine.15

Even as in ships of warre whole lasts of powder

Are laid, me thinks, to make them last, and gard them,

When a disorder'd spark, that powder taking,

Blowes up, with sodaine violence and horror,

Ships that (kept empty) had sayl'd long, with terror.20

That which doth oft succeed and by th'events

Values the worth of things, will think it true

That Nature works at random, just with you:

But with as much proportion she may make25

A thing that from the feet up to the throat

Hath all the wondrous fabrique man should have,

And leave it headlesse, for a perfect man,

As give a full man valour, vertue, learning,

Without an end more excellent then those30

On whom she no such worthy part bestowes.

Before the frantick puffes of blind borne chance,

That pipes through empty men and makes them dance.45

Not so the sea raves on the Libian sands,

Tumbling her billowes in each others neck:

Not so the surges of the Euxian Sea

(Neere to the frosty pole, where free Bootes

From those dark deep waves turnes his radiant teame)50

Swell, being enrag'd even from their inmost drop,

As fortune swings about the restlesse state

Of vertue now throwne into all mens hate.