To the Ambitious, Envious Man

Does that Man's honour and his wealth abound?
Is his felicity sufficient ground
For thee to envy what he does possess,
When thou dost feel no want, though thine be less?
Such envy dwells not in a noble heart:
Yet I will teach thee a mysterious art
Shall make ambition, and thy envy swell
As high as Heaven, and yet thou shalt do well.
Thou want'st not understanding, nor a wit,
But want'st the will and grace to manage it.
Let the dull Clown still multiply his Cows,
And make't his business to enlarge his Mows;
The wary Merchant traffick on the Seas,
The Souldier kill as many as he please;
The Usurer injoy his full-stuff'd Bags,
And the gay Courtier boast his golden Rags;
And greatest Lords to highest Titles born,
Search all the World, they never can adorn
Themselves with wealth, or glories that shall last
Unto eternity. Then do not waste
Thy life on trifles, let thy envy rise;
Do thou contest with those that Heav'n do prize,
With all that do pretend a better right
Than thou, to be God's greatest Favourite.
'Tis a noble and a brave Religion,
That allows thy envy and ambition,
To trample on the World in spight of fate,
Until thy forehead knock at Heaven Gate.