Have More Than You Show,

Time Hath Not Yet So Dried This Blood Of Mine, Nor Age So Eat Up My Invention, Nor Fortune Made Such Havoc Of My Means, Nor My Bad Life Reft Me So Much Of Friends, But They Shall Find Awaked In Such A Kind Both Strength Of Limb And Policy Of Mind, Ability In Means, And Choice Of Friends, To Quit Me Of Them Throughly.

And Flights Of Angels Sing Thee To Thy Rest!

You May My Glories And My State Depose, But Not My Griefes; Still Am I King Of Those.

The Wind-shak'd Surge, With High And Monstrous Main, Seems To Cast Water On The Burning Bear, And Quench The Guards Of The Ever-fixed Pole.

Thou Shalt Be Both The Plaintiff And The Judge Of Thine Own Cause.