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Poem	Preferment, like a Game at bowles, To feede our hope with diverse play Heer quick it runnes, there soft it rowles: The Betters make and shew the way. As upper ground, so great Allies Doe many cast on theyr desire: Some uppe are thrust, and forc't to rise, When those are stopt that would aspire. Some whose heate and zeale exceed Thrive well by Rubbs that curb theyr hast Some that languish in theyr speede Are cherisht by a gentle blast. Some rest: and others cutting out The same by whome themselves were made: Some fetch a compasse farre about And secretly the marke invade. Some gett by knocke, and so advance Theyr fortune by a boystrous ayme: And some who have the sweetest chance Theyr mistresse hitt, and winne the game. The fayrest casts are those that owe No thanks to Fortunes giddy sway: Such honest men good bowles doe throw, Whose owne true Byass cutts the way.
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