Look up, thou seed of envy, and still bring Thy faint, and narrow eyes, to read the king In his great actions: view whom his large hand, Hath raised to be the port unto his land! Weston! That waking man! That eye of state! Who seldom sleeps! Whom bad men only hate! Why do I irritate, or stir up thee, Thou sluggish spawn, that canst, but wilt not see! Feed on thyself for spite, and show thy kind: To virtue, and true worth, be ever blind. Dream thou couldst hurt it, but before thou wake, To effect it; feel, thou hast made thine own heart ache. |