Honour and shame from no condition rise;
Act well your part, there all the honour lyes.
Fortune in men has some small diff'rence made,195
One flaunts in rags, one flutters in brocade,
The cobler apron'd, and the parson gown'd,
The frier hooded, and the monarch crown'd.
'What differ more (you cry) the crown and cowl?'
I'll tell you, friend! a wise man and a fool.200
You'll find, if once the monarch acts the monk,
Or, cobler-like, the parson will be drunk,
Worth makes the man, the want of it the fellow,
The rest is all but leather or prunella.204
Stuck o'er with titles and hung round with strings,
That thou may'st be by kings, or whores of kings.
Boast the pure blood of an illustrious race,
In quiet flow from Lucrece to Lucrece;
But by your fathers' worth if your's you rate,
Count me those only who were good and great.210
Go! if your ancient, but ignoble blood
Has crept thro' scoundrels ever since the flood,
Go! and pretend your family is young,
Nor own your fathers have been fools so long.
What can ennoble sots, or slaves, or cowards?215
Alas! not all the blood of all the Howards.
Look next on greatness; say where greatness lyes.
'Where, but among the heroes and the wise?'
Heroes are much the same, the point's agreed,
From Macedonia's madman to the Swede;220
The
