Zeal your pretence, but wealth and power your aims,
You ev'n could make a SOLOMON of JAMES.
Behold the pedant, thron'd in aukward state,
Absorb'd in pride, ridiculously great;
His courtiers seem to tremble at his nod,
His prelates call his voice the voice of God;
Weakness and vanity with them combine,
And JAMES believes his majesty divine.
Presumptuous wretch! almighty power to scan,
While every action proves him less than man.