See, yonder melancholy gentleman,
Which, hood-wink'd with his hat, alone doth sit!
Think what he thinks, and tell me, if you can,
What great affairs trouble his little wit.
He thinks not of the war 'twixt France and Spain,
Whether it be for Europe's good or ill,
Nor whether the Empire can itself maintain
Against the Turkish power encroaching still;
Nor what great town in all the Netherlands
The States determine to besiege this spring,
Nor how the Scottish policy now stands,
Nor what becomes of the Irish mutining.
But he doth seriously bethink him whether
Of the gull'd people he be more esteem'd
For his long cloak or for his great black feather
By which each gull is now a gallant deem'd;
Or of a journey he deliberates
To Paris-garden, Cock-pit, or the play;
Or how to steal a dog he meditates,
Or what he shall unto his mistress say.
Yet with these thoughts he thinks himself most fit
To be of counsel with a king for wit.