He is a noble spy; who takes pains without fee;

And here and everywhere a dangerous indweller;

A prince's longest arm; an uninvited guest,

Who nonetheless belongs in high place at the feast;

A watchlight for the garden, a strong beam for the wall,

A moat about the grounds, lying near or lying far.

An eye which has been hired, therefore exalted so,

In dozing only closed, never allowed to sleep.

A speaking picture of whoever sent him forth,

Then in an instant free, unframed, without a task.

A saint when he's abroad, respected for his clothes,

But half at home forgotten as a half-moulded block,

To foreigners a man, a skeleton at home;

An unarmed messenger; a shameless orator,

A sentry outside walls; a nightwatchman by day,

An exile who would never wish his home to see;

A King but by the month, a bountiful innkeeper

Where his king's colours hang, a public shoulder

To all his countrymen; a powerful advocate

To do swift justice or to speak about redress,

A killing weapon with which Princes give the blow,

Less harmful though it be since used for punishment,

And everyone at home must suffer the rebuke

Which he compels his neighbour, out of spite, to hear.