The Rocke of Regard diuided into foure parts. The first, the Castle of delight: Wherein is reported, the wretched end of wanton and dissolute liuing. The second, the Garden of Vnthriftinesse: Wherein are many sweete flowers, (or rather fancies) of honest loue. The thirde, the Arbour of Vertue: Wherein slaunder is highly punished, and vertuous Ladies and Gentlewomen, worthily commended. The fourth, the Ortchard of Repentance: Wherein are discoursed, the miseries that followe dicing, the mischiefes of quareling, the fall of prodigalitie: and the souden ouerthrowe of foure notable cousners, with diuers other morall, natural, & tragical discourses: documents and admonitions being all the inuention, collection and translation of George Whetstons |
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 | The Rocke of Regard |  |
The vnhappie man contemneth Fortune, and cleaueth to Hope, assured once to reach good hap by vertuous Industrie, in the despite of Fortune.
Sweete
is the thought, where hope persuadeth hap.
Although the mynd, be fed with faint desire,
The dunghil drone, would mount to honours lap,
If forward thoughts, to Fortune could aspire,
The ventrous knight, whom Vallor doth aduaūce,
First cuts off dread, with hope of happie chaunce.
Although the mynd, be fed with faint desire,
The dunghil drone, would mount to honours lap,
If forward thoughts, to Fortune could aspire,
The ventrous knight, whom Vallor doth aduaūce,
First cuts off dread, with hope of happie chaunce.
If hope of fame, supprest not feare of death,
In face of shot, the souldier would not run,
Or recke so small, the losse of liuely breath,
If spoyle thereof, a slender glory won.
Nor merchants would, so seeke out forreine soyle,
If hope of gaine, ne recompenst their toyle.
In face of shot, the souldier would not run,
Or recke so small, the losse of liuely breath,
If spoyle thereof, a slender glory won.
Nor merchants would, so seeke out forreine soyle,
If hope of gaine, ne recompenst their toyle.
The murdrous mate, the traitour, and the theefe,
By conscience guilt, that bathes in bitter teares,
In hope of grace, doth sucke out sweete reliefe,
Which wears to eb, their flowing tyde of feares,
Then sith she feeds, the wights forworne with wo,
Why should I faint, though Fortune be my fo.
By conscience guilt, that bathes in bitter teares,
In hope of grace, doth sucke out sweete reliefe,
Which wears to eb, their flowing tyde of feares,
Then sith she feeds, the wights forworne with wo,
Why should I faint, though Fortune be my fo.
Whose thought doth climbe, by vertue, not by vice,
To whom perforce, proude Fortune yeldes a thral,
Suppose (sly hap) may hinder my deuice,
Feare feedes the heart, that faintes for euery fall,
If first come short, then frame a newe account,
The forward mynde, a thousand wayes may mount.
To whom perforce, proude Fortune yeldes a thral,
Suppose (sly hap) may hinder my deuice,
Feare feedes the heart, that faintes for euery fall,
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The forward mynde, a thousand wayes may mount.
Thou seest that doultes, whome only hap aduaunce,
Dare ouerrule their betters farre in wit,
Which vailde their hope, to euery sorrie chaunce,
What may he then, whose hap with skill is knit,
Bare sway by will, as well in wrong as right,
Grudge may his foes, but not withstande his might.
Dare ouerrule their betters farre in wit,
Which vailde their hope, to euery sorrie chaunce,
What may he then, whose hap with skill is knit,
Bare sway by will, as well in wrong as right,
Grudge may his foes, but not withstande his might.
Yet hardly men, by vertue do aspire,
Spight sowes suspect, till their desart be tryde,
But once aduaunst, is that the wise desire,
In fauour they, for fortunes chaunge prouide,
Then though at first, thou light in Enuies trap,
Small were by losse, which neuer earst hadst hap.
Spight sowes suspect, till their desart be tryde,
But once aduaunst, is that the wise desire,
In fauour they, for fortunes chaunge prouide,
Then though at first, thou light in Enuies trap,
Small were by losse, which neuer earst hadst hap.
If so it be, in hope I forward set,
To raunge the world, as fortune shall me driue,
A happy toyle, if credite so I get,
As sure I shall, for what is he aliue,
But hath good hap, within so large a scope,
God and Saint George, send fortune as I hope.
To raunge the world, as fortune shall me driue,
A happy toyle, if credite so I get,
As sure I shall, for what is he aliue,
But hath good hap, within so large a scope,
God and Saint George, send fortune as I hope.
| The Rocke of Regard | |