Of the meane and sure estate writen to Iohn Poins.
MY mothers maides when they do sowe and spinne:
They sing a song made of the feldishe mouse:
That for bicause her liuelod was but thinne,
Would nedes go se her townish sisters house,
She thought, her selfe endured to greuous paine,
The stormy blastes her caue so sore dyd sowse:
That when the furrowes swimmed with the raine:
She must lie colde, and wet in sory plight.
And worse then that, bare meat there did remaine
To comfort her, when she her house had dight:
Sometime a barly corne: sometime a beane:
For which she laboured hard both day and night,
In haruest time, while she might go and gleane.
And when her store was stroyed with the floode:
Then weleaway for she vndone was cleane.
Then was she faine to take in stede of fode,
Slepe if she might, her honger to begile.
My sister (quod she) hath a liuing good:
And hence from me she dwelleth not a mile.
In colde and storme, she lieth warme and dry,
In bed of downe: the durt doth not defile
Her tender fote, she labours not as I,
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Richely she fedes, and at the richemans cost:
And for her meat she nedes not crane nor cry.
By sea, by land, of delicates the most
Her cater sekes, and spareth for no perell:
She fedes on boyle meat, bake meat, and on rost:
And hath therefore no whit of charge nor trauell.
And when she list the licour of the grape
Doth glad her hart, tyll that her belly swell.
And at this iourney makes she but a iape:
So forth she goes, trusting of all this wealth,
With her sister her part so for to shape:
That if she might there kepe her self in health:
To liue a Lady while her life doth last.
And to the dore nowe is she come by stealth:
And with her fote anone she scarpes full fast.
Thother for fear, durst not well scarse appeare:
Of euery noyse so was the wretch agast.
At last, she asked softly who was there.
And in her language as well as she could,
Pepe (quod the other) sister I am here.
Peace (quod the towne mouse) why speakest thou so loude?
And by the hand she toke her faire and well.
Welcome (quod she) my sister by the rode.
She feasted her that ioye it was to tell
The fare they hadde, they dranke the wine so clere:
And as to purpose now and then i•• fell:
She chered her, with how sister what chere?
Amid this ioye be fell a sory chance:
That (weleaway) the stranger bought full dere
The fare she had. For as she lookt a scance:
Under a stole she spied two stemyng eyes
In a rounde head, wyth sharpe eares: in Fraunce
Was neuer mouse so ferde, for the vnwise
Had not ysene such a beast before.
Yet had nature taught her after her gise,
To know her fo: and dread him euermore.
The townemouse f••ed: she knew whither to go:
The other had no shift, but wonders sore
Ferde of her life, at home she wisht her tho:
And to the dore (alas) as she did skippe:
The heauen it would, lo: and eke her chance was so:
At the threshold hersely fote did trippe:
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And ere she myght recouer it againe:
The traitour cat had caught her by the hippe:
And made her there against her wyll remayne:
That had forgot her power, suerty and rest,
For seking welth, wherein she thought to raigne.
Alas (my Poyns) how men do seke the best,
And finde the worse, by errour as they stray,
And no maruell, when sight is so opprest,
And blindes the guide, anone out of the way
Goeth guide and all in seking quiet life.
O wretched mindes, there is no golde that may
Graunt that you seke, no warre, no peace, no strife.
No, no, although thy head were hoopt with golde,
Sergeant with mace, with hawbart, sword, nor knife,
Can not repulse the care that folow should.
Ech kinde of life hath with him his disease.
Liue in delits, euen as thy lust would:
And thou shalt finde, when lust doth most thee please:
It irketh straight, and by it selfe doth fade.
A small thing is it, that may thy minde appease.
None of you al there is, that is so madde,
To seke for grapes on brambles, or on bryers:
Nor none I trow that hath a wytte so badde,
To set his haye for coneies ouer riuers:
Nor ye set not a dragge net for an hare.
And yet the thing, that most is your desire,
You do misseke, with more trauell and care.
Make plaine thine ha••t, that it be not knotted
With hope or dreade, and se thy wil be bare
From all affectes, whom vice hath neuer spotted.
Thy selfe content with that is thee assinde:
And vse it well that is to thee alotted,
Then seke no more out of thy selfe to finde
The thing that thou hast sought so long before.
For thou shalt feele it stickyng in thy minde.
Made, if ye list to continue your sore:
Let present passe, and gape on time to come,
And depe thy selfe in trauell more and more.
Henceforth (my Poins) this shall be all and summe
These wretched foles shall haue nought els of me:
But, to the great God and to his dome,
None other paine pray •• for them to be:
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But when the rage doth leade them from the right:
That loking backward, Uertue they may se,
Euen as she is, so goodly fayre and bright.
And whilst they claspe their lustes in armes a crosse:
Graunt them good Lord, as thou maist of thy might,
To freat inwarde, ••or losyng such a losse.