Let those who are in favour with their stars,
Of public honour and proud titles boast
Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars,
Unlook’d for joy in that I honour most.
Great princes’ favourites their fair leaves spread
But as the marigold at the sun’s eye,
And in themselves their pride lies buried,
For at a frown they in their glory die.
The painful warrior famusèd for fight
After a thousand victories once foil’d,
Is from the book of honour razed quite,(forth)
And all the rest forgot for which he toil’d:
Then happy I, that love and am beloved
Where I may not remove, nor be removed.