The Castell of Courtesie Whereunto is adioyned The Holde of Humilitie: With the Chariot of Chastitie thereunto annexed. Also a Dialogue betweene Age and Youth, and other matters herein conteined. By Iames Yates |
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It is a vaine thing to molest the minde with fortunes Inconstancie.
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 | The Castell of Courtesie |  |
It is a vaine thing to molest the minde with fortunes Inconstancie.
Muse
not a whit, though Fortune frowne,
And turne thy ioy vnto dispight:
She setteth vp, she pulleth downe,
She moueth care, she brings delight.
Thus to and fro
this Dame doth tosse,
To ouerthrow
Our welth to losse.
And turne thy ioy vnto dispight:
She setteth vp, she pulleth downe,
She moueth care, she brings delight.
Thus to and fro
this Dame doth tosse,
To ouerthrow
Our welth to losse.
From welth to losse, is cause of greefe,
And cause of greefe, procures paine:
And paine is that would haue reliefe,
And where reliefe, doth still refraine.
What thinke you tho,
Some sigh and say:
Oh fy on wo,
And wofull stay.
And cause of greefe, procures paine:
And paine is that would haue reliefe,
And where reliefe, doth still refraine.
What thinke you tho,
Some sigh and say:
Oh fy on wo,
And wofull stay.
And wofull stay, that onely is,
The wretched wringer of the witt:
The thing that lyfe would faine Dismisse,
If Ioue would so alow of it.
Where Reason failes,
And Will is Iudge:
What then Preuailes,
But Wrath and Grudge,
The wretched wringer of the witt:
The thing that lyfe would faine Dismisse,
If Ioue would so alow of it.
Where Reason failes,
And Will is Iudge:
What then Preuailes,
But Wrath and Grudge,
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But wrath and grudge? what life is that,
Who would Desire there to bee?
The silly Mouse doth dread the Cat,
Because she feares her Crueltie:
Euen so annoyes
Which daily grow:
Bereaues the ioyes
Of some I knowe.
Who would Desire there to bee?
The silly Mouse doth dread the Cat,
Because she feares her Crueltie:
Euen so annoyes
Which daily grow:
Bereaues the ioyes
Of some I knowe.
Of some I know, that daily tast
The sower sauce of sorrowes still:
And yet with griefe they take repast.
And make a myrth of euery ill.
For thats the way,
As wisedome shewes:
For to alay
Dame Fortunes blowes.
The sower sauce of sorrowes still:
And yet with griefe they take repast.
And make a myrth of euery ill.
For thats the way,
As wisedome shewes:
For to alay
Dame Fortunes blowes.
Dame Fortunes blowes which coopled are
With ouerthwartes that glutte the minde:
And in the stomake make such warre,
As life doth wish it were Resign'd.
Yet onely this
Remembring still:
A tune there is
To end all ill.
With ouerthwartes that glutte the minde:
And in the stomake make such warre,
As life doth wish it were Resign'd.
Yet onely this
Remembring still:
A tune there is
To end all ill.
| The Castell of Courtesie | |