Poem by Henry King, Bishop of Chichester

Epigram (He whose advent’rous keele ploughes the rough Seas)

Qui Pelago credit, mango se fænore tollit, &c

                Petronius Arbiter 

He whose advent’rous keele ploughes the rough Seas, 
Takes Interest of Fate for wealth’s increase. 
He that in Battaile trafficks, and pitch’t fields, 
Reaps with his Sword rich Harvests, which warre yeelds. 
Base parasites repose their drunken heads, 
Laden with Sleep and Wine, on Tyrian beds. 
And he that melts in Lust’s adult’rous fire 
Getts both reward and pleasure for his hire. 
But Learning only, midst this wanton heat, 
Hath (save it self) nothing to weare or eat; 
Faintly exclaiming on the looser Times, 
That value Witt and Artes belowe their Crimes. 

1. To the Queen at Oxford
2. The Short Wooing
3. On Two Children Dying Of One Disease, And Buried In One Grave
4. Another Of The Same, Paraphrased For An Antheme
5. Madam Gabrina, Or The Ill-Favourd Choice

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