|
| Too many vertues, or too much of one |
| Begets in you unjust suspition. |
| And ignorance of vice, makes vertue lesse, |
| Quenching compassion of our wrechednesse. |
| But these are riddles; Some aspersion |
| Of vice becomes well some complexion. |
| Statesmen purge vice with vice, and may corrode |
| The bad with bad, a spider with a toad: |
| For so, ill thralls not them, but they tame ill |
| And make her do much good against her will, |
| But in your Commonwealth or world in you |
| Vice hath no office, or good worke to doe. |
| Take then no vitious purge, but be content |
| With cordiall vertue, your knowne nourishment. |
|
| To the Countesse of Bedford. |
| On New-yeares day. |
|
| This twilight of two yeares, not past nor next, |
| Some embleme is of mee, or I of this, |
| Who Meteor-like, of stuffe and forme perplext, |
| Whose what, and where, in disputation is, |
| If I should call mee any thing, should misse.
|
[CW: I] |