 | Poems (1872) |  |
78
XXII. EPIGRAM.
[Weare I a kinge, I mighte com̄ande contente]
Weare I a kinge, I mighte com̄ande contente,Weare I obscure, unknowne should be my cares,
And weare I deade, noe thoughts should me torment,
Nor woordes, nor wronges, nor love, nor hate, nor feares
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A kingdome, or a cottage, or a grave.
Answered thus by Sir Philip Sidney.
Wearte thou a kinge, yet not com̄ande content,
Sith empire none thy mind could yet suffice,
Wearte thou obscure, still cares would thee torment,
But wearte thou dead, all care and sorrow dyes.
An easy choys of three things one to crave,
Noe kingdome, nor a cottage, but a grave.
| Poems (1872) | |