He's but a child, tho 
Unscathed he'd not be
Who despiseth him.
Gods so pompous
Were made to cavort
Where they wanted not;
When he wished it,
A king, his own 
Estate fast forgot;
A lord of lords, he!
Foul, beasts and fishes
Ever do serve him;
'Tis each man tho,
His ruin can cause, 
If idle he lays not.