At the throng'd levee bends the venal tribe:
With fair but faithless smiles each varnish'd o'er,
Each read more

At the throng'd levee bends the venal tribe:
With fair but faithless smiles each varnish'd o'er,
Each smooth as those that mutually deceive,
And for their falsehood each despising each.

To shake with laughter ere the jest they hear,
To pour at will the counterfeited tear;
And, read more

To shake with laughter ere the jest they hear,
To pour at will the counterfeited tear;
And, as their patron hints the cold or heat,
To shake in dog-days, in December sweat.

A mere court butterfly,
That flutters in the pageant of a monarch.

A mere court butterfly,
That flutters in the pageant of a monarch.

There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to,
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,
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There is betwixt that smile we would aspire to,
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,
More pangs and fears than wars or women have;
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
Never to hope again.