She's mistress of all: Rule of this earth To her is entrusted; Fortune she's called. But for her, Maia's son, whom She grants gifts, be naught. Man, living for gain, Mars, fast to shed blood, Stand both in her hand. He fears her even Whom Yenus enflames; He praises her too, Who lives by his toil, In sweat and in thrift. Kindly at her he'd look, Who mocks her in word; For wise deliberation, Wishing, she'd turn to dispute. Of a king, a pauper, Of a slave, a king, Should she will, she'd make. She's heedless on whom Her gifts she bestows, In which no trust Is she wont to keep. So doth she sport! Through inconstancy alone She endures unchanging, To wander hither and yon, Ruling earth with no rules. In this tho, she's less Unto virtue persisting Would she fast submit, With it forever in strife.