Who can consider thy right courses run, With what thy virtue on the times hath won, And not thy fortune; who can clearly see The judgement of the king so shine in thee; And that thou seek'st reward of thy each act, Not from the public voice, but private fact; Who can behold all envy so declined By constant suffering of thy equal mind; And can to these be silent, Salisbury, Without his, thine, and all times' injury? Cursed be his muse, that could lie dumb, or hid To so true worth, though thou thyself forbid. |