To Vaine hope.

THou dreame of madmen, ever changing gale,
Sw…ll with thy wanton breath the gaudy saile
Of glorious fooles. Thou guid'st them who thee court
To rocks, to quick-sands, or some faithlesse port.
Were I not mad, who when secure at ease,
I might ith' Cabbin passe the raging Seas,
Would like a franticke shipboy wildly haste,
To climbe the giddy top of th' unsafe mast?
Ambition never to her hopes did faine
A greatnesse, but I really obtaine
In my Castara. Wer'… not fondnesse then
T'embrace the shadowes of true blisse? And when…
My Paradise all flowers and fruits doth breed:
To rob a barren garden for a weed?