Classic Poem

The best conceit that euer Braine did breede
(Though better borne then bred, or first conceau'd,
May in good birth, yet haue such euil speed,
That scarse the spirit of life may be perceau'd:
For, Emulation hath no patience
(No more then Ignorance) to stand vpon
The narrow search of strict Intelligence
But dooms it dead, sith it liues so alone
That liues alone that singularly liues
Which is the life of Singularity:
To liue that life, til Emulation striues
Or to obscrue his skill that Ilues thereby.
Enuy seems pois'ned with anothers praise,
Which as those praises swell, swells more, and more;
Who, worne to nought, hir selfe (yet) only waighes,
And weighes no others woorths, vnlesse too poore
But that shee seeketh to enrich alone,
Not of Deuotion, but of damd desire
To make the greater woorth the lesser knowne:
For shee doth most ecclipse what is most cleir.
Whic toile we then? or lose our golden Sleepes
To gaine (with golden Time) more glorious praise?
Sith basest Enuy, highest Honor keepes,
By whose dispight hir glorie oft decayes.
It is because the longer after Death
Our Fames do flee, the longer breathe thy shall:
For, Enuies winde doth vanish with our breath;
And when our harts breake, broken is hir Gall:
Then this doth comfort all that merit fame
That Vertue liues when Enuy dies with shame.