A fig for Momus Containing Pleasant varietie, included in Satyres, Eclogues, and Epistles, by T. L. [i.e. Thomas Lodge] |
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Satyre. 5.
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 | A fig for Momus |  |
Satyre. 5.
In euery land from Gades to Ganges floodToo few they be that thinke vpon their good:
Too few that by discretion can discerne
What profite rightly doth themselues concerne.
Behould ambitions true begotten sonne,
Spent in desire before his hope be wonne,
Striuing for kingdomes which are sooner lost,
Then kept, desir'd, then had, with mightie cost.
Ending like him that senceles in his harmes
Behould a mind pressing beyond his might,
Catching at stars censur'd by ouersight.
Like him tha eger scales a mountaine steepe,
And headlong fals into the valley deepe:
There liues no man so setled in content
That hath not daily whereof to repent,
Nor can reformed wit so iustly deeme,
But that it leaues true goods, for such as seeme,
Briefly, the greatest gifts whereof we boast
Are those which doe attempt and tire vs most.
Peace brings in pleasure, pleasure breeds excesse,
Excesse procureth want, want works distresse:
Distresse contempt, contempt is not repair'd
Till timeles death determine, hope dispair'd.
Warre egges the victor to desire debate,
The conquer'd to submit and serue with hate;
Leaues nothing sure though he presume to choose,
But what he keeps with hate and dreades to loose:
How oft hath watching policie deuis'd
A cunning clause which hath himselfe surpris'd?
How often hath lewd fraud been set afloate?
Of purpose that his goods might cut his throate?
Who builds on strength by policie is stript:
Who trusts his wit, by wit is soonest tript.
A home-borne infant of our English west
Hast in that shamefull schene of treasons play
Betray'd thy selfe to death, who would'st betray:
Volcatius that subborn'd, deuis'd, and wrought
To worke out Themis, from the place he sought:
Was laught in court, and though he were not seene,
Yet wept his follies to a woodden skreene,
Was neuer since this wretched world began
To entertaine, receiue, and nourish man.
A iudgment by itselfe that neuer err'd
Or wit vnwrong'd by that he most prefer'd
Trauel the world, & trauerse euery clime,
And win one houre in euery yeare of time:
Compasse what ere the sea receiueth round,
And seeke to South-ward men of vnder-ground:
What hast thou got is following Candies fate,
That keepst no certaine compasse in thy state:
O nought of ours, our wealth, our wit, enioy'd,
If not as ours, for vs, it be employ'd,
Thy fame declining, Tellus, not thy farme,
Thy zeale presumptuous, Dacus not thine arme:
Thy bountie Varis, not thy many bribes,
Thy silence Shanus, not thy many Iibes.
These are those goods whereto you ought to cleaue:
What then in right for good may we elect?
Such things as chalenge not by lewd respect?
Seeke not in age with Crassus such a place
As both thy life and fortune may deface:
Nor fill the sea with sailes, the earth with men
In shamefull sort, to be repulst agen.
Nor leaue the northren lands, and fruitfull Gaul,
In royall Rome, thine empire to enstall:
For seldome can presumption be enthrown'd
To liue esteem'd, or die to be bemown'd.
An humble cote entapissed with mosse,
A lowlie life that feares no sodaine losse:
A mind that dreads no fal, nor craues no crowne,
But makes his true-content, his best renowne.
These are the choice contēts, the goods, the gaine
Which rightly can be ours: the rest are vaine.
If thou then see a troupe of garded knaues
Waite at Argastos heels like seruile slaues:
Be not aghast, admire not at his state,
For now the world is bent to serue and hate:
Tis true: that slaue whom Pompey did promoate,
Was he that first assay'd to cut his throate.
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