93645Haue done, quoth he, my vncontrolled tide

646Turnes not, but swels the higher by this let.

647Small lightes are soone blown out, huge fires abide,

648And with the winde in greater furie fret:

649The petty streames that paie a dailie det

650 To their salt soueraigne with their fresh fals hast,

651 Adde to his flowe, but alter not his tast.

94652Thou art, quoth shee, a sea, a soueraigne King,

653And loe there fals into thy boundlesse flood,

654Blacke lust, dishonor, shame, mis-gouerning,

655Who seeke to staine the Ocean of thy blood.

656If all these pettie ils shall change thy good,

657 Thy sea within a puddels wombe is hersed,

658 And not the puddle in thy sea dispersed.

95659So shall these slaues be King, and thou their slaue,

660Thou noblie base, they baselie dignified:

661Thou their faire life, and they thy fowler graue:

662Thou lothed in their shame, they in thy pride,

663The lesser thing should not the greater hide.

664 The Cedar stoopes not to the base shrubs foote,

665 But low-shrubs wither at the Cedars roote.