Sir, how unravell'd is the golden fleece:
Men, that could only fool at FOX AND GEESE,
Are new-made polititians by thy book,
And both can judge and conquer with a look.
The hidden fate of princes you unfold;
Court, clergy, commons, by your law control'd.
Strange, serious wantoning all that they
Bluster'd and clutter'd for, you PLAY.
To Dr. F. B[eale]; On His Book Of Chesse.
Richard Lovelace
(1)
Poem topics: fate, hidden, play, judge, fool, book, golden, strange, control, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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