LVIII.

Where art thou man? what cowardly mistake Of thy great selfe, hath stolne king Herod from thee? O call thy selfe home to thy self, wake, wake, And fence the hanging sword Heav'n throws upon thee. Redeeme a worthy wrath, rouse thee, and shake Thy selfe into a shape that may become thee. Be Herod, and thou shalt not misse from mee Immortall stings to thy great thoughts, and thee.