 | Chrestoleros |  |
Epigr. 33.
A Pilgrim beggar on a day,Did meete a Lorde vpon the way.
I trust your honour will be good,
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For why me thought a per'lous thing,
Vpon a soddaine ch'was a King.
Helpe him, which had his dreame beene trewe
Last night, mought donne so much for you.
The Lord replying answered than:
O happy dreame, O wretched man.
And happy man, although but poore.
If thou had'st neuer waked more.
And yet thy fancy was not meane
Beggar, I enuie at thy dreame.
This answere made the beggar prate,
Sir take my dreame for your estate.
This much your reason will afforde.
Sleepe you a King, Ile wake a Lorde.
Thus euery state receiues his punishment.
The poore of want, the rich of discontent.
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