Farewell! a Long Farewell ...
Shakespeare, William (1564-1616)

  Farewell! a long farewell, to all my greatness!
  This is the state of man: today he puts forth
  The tender leaves of hope; tomorrow blossoms,
  And bears his blushing honours thick upon him;
  The third day comes a frost, a killing frost.
  And when he thinks, good easy man, full surely
  His greatness is a-ripening, nips his root,
  And then he falls, as I do.  I have ventured,
  Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders,
  This many summers in a sea of glory,
  But far beyond my depth:  my high-blown pride
  At length broke under me and now has left me,
  Weary and old with service, to the mercy 
  Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me.
  Vain pomp and glory of this world, I hate ye:
  I feel my heart new open'd.  O, how wretch'd
  Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favours!
  There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to,
  That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin,
  More pangs and fears than wars or women have:
  And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer,
  Never to hope again.

Henry VIII, III,ii,351 (Wolsey)