 | Henry Lorde Morley |  |
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Henry Lorde Morley to hys Posteritye.
Never was I lesse alone than being alone,Here in this chamber evill thought had I none,
But always I thought to bryng the mynd to rest,
And yt thought off all thoughts I juge it the beste.
Ffor yf my coffers hade ben full of perle & golde,
And Fortune hade favorde me then as yt I wolde,
The mynde out of quyat, so sage Senek sethe,
It hade ben no felicitie, but a paynfull dethe.
Love then whoo love wyll to stand in hyge degre,
I blame hym not a whytte, so yt he followe me;
And take hys losse as quietly as when yt he doth wynne,
Then Fortune hath no maistre of that state he ys in.
But rulys & ys not rulyde, & takes the better part.
O, that man is blessyd, yt lerns this gentle arte.
Thys was my felicitie, my pastyme, & my game.
I wisshe all my posteritie they wolde ensew the same.
| Henry Lorde Morley | |