Yea, such as, like[98] the lapwing, build their nests
In a man’s dung, come up by drudgery,
Will be the first that, like that foolish bird,
Will follow him with yelling and false cries. 
Well[99] sung a shepherd, that now sleeps in skies,[100]
“Dumb swans do love, and not vain chattering pies.” 
In mountains, poets say, Echo is hid,
For her deformity and monstrous shape: 
Those mountains are the houses of great lords,
Where Stentor, with his hundred voices, sounds
A hundred trumps at once with rumour fill’d. 
A woman they imagine her to be,
Because that sex keep nothing close they hear;
And that’s the reason magic writers frame[101]
There are more witches women, than of men;
For women generally, for the most part,
Of secrets more desirous are than men[102],
Which having got, they have no power to hold. 
In these times had Echo’s first fathers liv’d,
No woman, but a man, she had been feign’d
(Though women yet will want no news to prate);
For men (mean men), the scum and dross of all,
Will talk and babble of they know not what,
Upbraid, deprave, and taunt they care not whom. 
Surmises pass for sound approved truths;
Familiarity and conference,
That were the sinews of societies,
Are now for underminings only us’d;
And novel wits, that love none but themselves,
Think wisdom’s height as falsehood slyly couch’d,
Seeking each other to o’erthrow his mate. 
O friendship! thy old temple is defac’d: 
Embracing envy,[103] guileful courtesy,
Hath overgrown fraud-wanting honesty. 
Examples live but in the idle schools: 
Sinon bears all the sway in princes’ courts. 
Sickness, be thou my soul’s physician;
Bring the apothecary Death with thee. 
In earth is hell, hell true[104] felicity,
Compared with this world, the den of wolves!

AUT.  My lord, you are too passionate without cause.

WIN.  Grieve not for that which cannot be recall’d. 
Is it your servant’s carelessness you ’plain? 
Tully by one of his own slaves was slain. 
The husbandman close in his bosom nurs’d
A subtle snake, that after wrought his bane.

AUT. Servos fideles liberalitas facit;
Where on the contrary, servitutem—­
Those that attend upon illiberal lords,
Whose covetise yields nought else but fair looks,
Even of those fair looks make their gainful use. 
For, as in Ireland and in Denmark both,
Witches for gold will sell a man a wind[105]
Which, in the corner of a napkin wrapp’d,
Shall blow him safe unto what coast he will;
So make ill-servants sale of their lord’s wind
Which, wrapp’d up in a piece of parchment,
Blows many a knave forth danger of the law.