The vvorkes of a young wyt trust vp with a Fardell of pretie fancies, profitable to young Poetes, preiudicial to no man, and pleasaunt to euery man to passe away idle tyme withall. Whereunto is ioyned an odde kynde of wooing, with a Banquet of Comfettes, to make an ende withall. Done by N. B. Gentleman |
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[But by the sweete, how shoulde wee know the sowre] |
 | The vvorkes of a young wyt |  |
14
[But by the sweete, how shoulde wee know the sowre]
[_]
This donne, my Muse began to thinke vpon the estate of louers, and tolde me that he was muche to blame, to rage in suche sorte for a frowne or a foule worde, he muste abide twenty worse Banquets (excepte fortune be his greate friende) ere he atteine to his desire. For quoth shee:
Dulcia non nouit, qui non gustauit amarum.
and therewithall, vpon the same wordes wilde me write as foloweth.
But
by the sweete, how shoulde wee know the sowre,
but by a blacke, how shoulde wee know a white:
How shoulde a man enioye one ioyfull houre,
that hath not knowne some sorow by despite?
What shall I saie? what pleasure can he know,
that hath not passe some pang of deadly woe?
but by a blacke, how shoulde wee know a white:
How shoulde a man enioye one ioyfull houre,
that hath not knowne some sorow by despite?
What shall I saie? what pleasure can he know,
that hath not passe some pang of deadly woe?
The hungry fedde, know beste what is good cheere,
and poore once riche, who better knoweth welthe?
Who knowes good cheape, but he that hathe bought deere?
and sicke once hole, can Iudge how good is helthe.
Beleeue me now, none better knowes contente,
then he, that hathe some tyme in trouble spente.
and poore once riche, who better knoweth welthe?
Who knowes good cheape, but he that hathe bought deere?
and sicke once hole, can Iudge how good is helthe.
Beleeue me now, none better knowes contente,
then he, that hathe some tyme in trouble spente.
But what of him that neuer knew contente?
that tastes no sweete, but bitter, sharpe, and sowre:
And all his dayes hathe still in trouble spente,
and can not hope, to finde one happy houre?
Whom none aliue, (but one) that comforte can,
God make that one, to helpe him wretched man.
that tastes no sweete, but bitter, sharpe, and sowre:
And all his dayes hathe still in trouble spente,
and can not hope, to finde one happy houre?
Whom none aliue, (but one) that comforte can,
God make that one, to helpe him wretched man.
Finis.
| The vvorkes of a young wyt | |