Sic opibus mentes

THE Hyosciame, that about the plaines
Of Italie, doth in abundance grow,
Doth beare a flower, wherein a seed remaines,
Of Birdes the most desir'd, (as Herballs show:)
Which tasted by them, giddie downe they fall,
And haue no power, to flie away at all.

To this same fruite, I riches doe compare,
Which though at first, with sweetnes they bewitch:
Within a while, they breede our bane of care,
Or else we surfet, cloid with overmuch:
Or with their poison, breede out frantique fits:
Or with their losse, bereaue vs of our wits.