Man, proud man!
Drest in a little brief authority,
Most ignorant of what he’s most assur’d,
His glassy essence, like an angry ape,
Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven
As makes the angels weep.
And makes mere sots of magistrates.
The fumes of it invade the brain,
And make men giddy, proud and vain;
By this the fool commands the wise
The noble with the base complies.
The sot assumes the rule of wit,
And cowards make the base submit.