Songes and sonettes, written by the right honorable Lorde Henry Haward late Earle of Surrey, and other

The meane estate is to be accompted the best.

VVHo craftly castes to stere his boate and safely s••oures the flattering flood: He cutteth not the greatest waues, for why that way w••re nothing good. Ne fleteth on the crocked shore lest harme him happe awayting lest. But wines away betwene them both, as who would say the meane is best.

Who waiteth on the golden meane, he put in point of sickernes: Hides not his head in sluttish coates, ne shroudes himself in filthines. Ne sittes aloft in hye estate, Where hatefull hartes enuie his chance: But wisely walkes betwixt them twaine, ne proudly doth himself auance The highest tree in all the wood is rifest rent with blustring windes: The higher hall the greater fall such chance haue proude and lofty mindes. When Iupiter from hye doth threat with mortall mace and dint of thunder The hyest hilles bene batrid eft when they stand still that stoden vnder. The man whose hed with wit is fraught in welth will feare a worser tide When fortune failes dispaireth nought but constantly doth still abide. For he that sendeth grisely stormes with whisking windes and bitter blastes And fowlth with hayle the winters face, and frotes the soile with hory frostes: Euen he adawth the force of cold the spring in sendes with somer hote: The same full oft to stormy hartes is cause of bale: of ioy the roote. Not alwaies yll though so be now when cloudes ben driuen, then rides the racke. Phebus the fresh ne shooteth still, somtime he harpes his muse to wake. Stand stif therfore, pluck vp thy hart, lose not thy port though fortune faile. Againe whan winde doth serue at will, take hede to hye to hoyse thy saile.