Caelica, Sonnet LXXVII

THe Heathen Gods finite in Power, Wit, Birth,
Yet worshipped for their good deeds to men,
At first kept Stations betweene heauen, and earth,
Alike iust to the Castle, and the Denne;
Creation, Merit, Nature duly weighed,
And yet, in show, no rule, but will obeyed.

Till time, and selfenesse, which turne worth to Arts,
Loue into complements, and things to thought,
Found out new Circles to enthrall Mens hearts
By Lawes; wherein while Thrones seeme ouerwrought,
Power finely hath surpriz'd this faith of man,
And tax'd his freedome at more than be can.

For to the Scepters Iudges Lawes reserue
As well the practicke, as expounding sense,
From which no Innocence can painlesse swerne,
They being Engines of Omnipotence:
With equall showes, then is not humble man
Here finely tax'd at much more than he can?

Our moderne Tyrants, by more grosse ascent,
Although they found distinction in the State
Of Church, Law, Custome, Peoples gouernment,
Mediums (at least) to giue excesse a rate
Yet fatally haue tri'd to change this frame,
And, make will law, Mans wholesome lawes but name.

For when Power once hath trod this path of Might,
And found how Place aduantagiously extended
Waines, or confoundeth all Inferiors right
With thinne lines hardly seene, but neuer ended;
It straight drownes in this gulfe of vast affections,
Faith, truth, worth, law, all popular protections.