Quod potes, tenta
While, HERCULES, with mightie clubbe in hande
In Lyons skinne did sleepe, and take his ease:
About him straighte approch'de the Pigmeis bande,
And for to kill this conquerour assaies,
But foolishe dwarffes? theire force was all to smalle,
For when he wak'de, like gnattes hee crush'd them all.
This warneth us, that nothinge paste our strengthe
Wee shoulde attempte: nor anie worke pretende,
Above our power: lest that with shame at lengthe
Wee weakelinges proove, and fainte before the ende.
The pore, that strive with mightie, this doth blame:
And sottes, that seeke the learned to defame.