And as th' Hermeticall Physitians draw
From things that curse of the first-broken Law,
That_ Ens Venenum, _which extracted thence
Leaves nought but primitive Good and Innocence:
So was thy Spirit calcined; no Mixtures there
But perfect, such as next to Simples are.
Not like those Meteor-wits which wildly flye
In storme and thunder through th' amazed skie;
Speaking but th'Ills and Villanies in a State,
Which fooles admire, and wise men tremble at,
Full of portent and prodigie, whose Gall
Oft scapes the Vice, and on the man doth fall.
Nature us'd all her skill, when thee she meant
A Wit at once both Great and Innocent.
Yet thou hadst Tooth; but 'twas thy judgement, not
For mending one word, a whole sheet to blot.
Thou couldst anatomize with ready art
And skilfull hand crimes lockt close up i'th heart.
Thou couldst unfold darke Plots, and shew that path
By which Ambition climbed to Greatnesse hath._
_Thou couldst the rises, turnes, and falls of States,
How neare they were their Periods and Dates;
Couldst mad the Subject into popular rage,
And the grown seas of that great storme asswage,
Dethrone usurping Tyrants, and place there
The lawfull Prince and true Inheriter;
Knewst all darke turnings in the Labyrinth
Of policie, which who but knowes he sinn'th,
Save thee, who un-infected didst walke in't
As the great Genius of Government.
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