Classic Poem

Virgula diuina , Sorcerers call a rod,
Gather'd with vowes, and Magicke sacrifice;
Which borne about, by influence doth nod,
Vnto the siluer, where it hidden lyes;
Which makes poore men to these blacke arts deuout,
Rich onely in the wealth which hope findes out.

Nobilitie , this pretious treasure is,
Laid vp in secret mysteries of State,
Kings creature, subiections gilded blisse,
Where grace, not merit, seemes to gouerne fate.
Mankinde I thinke to be this rod diuine,
For to the greatest euer they incline.

Eloquence , that is but wisdome speaking well ,
(The Poets faigne) did make the sauage tame;
Of eares and hearts chain'd vnto tongues they tell;
I thinke Nobilitie to be the same:
For be they fooles, or speake they without wit,
We hold them wise, we fooles be-wonder it.

Inuisible there is an Art to goe,
(They say that studie Natures secret works)
And art there is to make things greater show;
In Noblenesse I thinke this secret lurks,
For place a Coronet on whom you will,
You straight see all great in him, but his Ill .