Caelica - Sonnet 91

Rewards of earth, Nobilitie and Fame,
To senses Glorie, and to conscience woe,
How little be you, for so great a name?
Yet lesse is he with men that thinks you so.
For earthly Power, that stands by fleshly wit,
Hath banish'd that Truth, which should gouerne it.

Nobilitie, Powers golden fetter is,
Wherewith wise Kings subiection doe adorne,
To make man thinke her heauy yoke, a blisse,
Because it makes him more than he was borne.
Yet still a slaue, dimm'd by mists of a Crowne,
Lest he should see, what riseth, what puls downe.

Fame , that is but good words of euill deeds,
Begotten by the harme we haue, or doe,
Greatest farre off, least euer where it breeds,
We both with dangers and disquiet wooe.
And in our flesh ( the vanities false glasse )
We thus deceau'd adore these Calues of brasse.
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