 | "Songes and Sonettes written by the ryght honorable
Lorde Henry Haward late Earle of Surrey, and other" |  |
Who loues to liue in peace
Descripcion of an vngodlye worlde.
WHo loues to liue in peace, and marketh euery change,Shal hear such news fro[m] time to time, as semeth woderous stra[n]ge.
Such fraude in frendly lokes, such frendshippe all for gayne:
Such cloked wrath in hatefull harts, which worldly men retayne.
Such fayned flatteryng fayth, amongs both hye and low:
Such great deceite, such subtell wittes, the pore to ouerthrowe.
Such spite in sugred tonges, such malice full of pride:
Such open wrong such great vntruth, which can not go vnspied.
Such restlesse sute for roumes, which bringeth men to care:
Such slidyng downe from slippry seates, yet can we not beware.
Such barkyng at the good, such bolstrynge of the yll:
Such threatnyng of the wrathe of God, such vyce embraced styll.
Such striuynge for the best, such climyng to estate:
Such great dissemblyng euery where, such loue all mixt wyth hate
Such traynes to trap the iust, such prollyng faultes to pyke:
Such cruell wordes for speakyng truth, who euer hearde the like.
Such strife for stirryng strawes, such discord dayly wrought,
Such forged tales dul wits to blind, such matters made of nought
Such trifles tolde for trouth, such credityng of lyes,
Such silence kept when foles do speake, such laughyng at the wise
Such plenty made so scarce, such criyng for redresse,
Such feared signes of our decay, which tong dares not expresse.
Such chaunges lightly markt, such troubles still apperes,
Which neuer were before this time, no not this thousand yeres.
Such bribyng for the purse, which euer gapes for more,
Such hordyng vp of worldly welth, such kepyng muck in store.
Such folly founde in age, such will in tender youth,
Such sundry sortes among great clarkes, & few [that] speake the truth
Such falshed vnder craft, and such vnstedfast wayes,
Was neuer sene within mens hartes, as is found now adayes.
Bb3r
The cause and ground of this is our vnquiet minde,
Which thinkes to take those goods away which we must leue be-hinde.
Why do men seke to get which they cannot possesse,
Or breke their slepes w[ith] carefull thoughtes & all for wretchednes.
Though one amonges a skore, hath welth and ease a while,
A thousand want which toyleth sore and trauaile many a mile.
And some although they slepe, yet welth falles in their lap,
Thus some be riche and some be pore as fortune geues the hap,
Wherfore I holde him wise which thinkes himself at ease,
And is content in simple state both god and man to please.
For those that liue like gods and honored are to day,
Within short time their glory falles as flowers do fade away.
Vncertein is their lifes on whom this world will frowne,
For though they sit aboue [the] starres a storm may strike the[m] downe
In welth who feares no fall may slide from ioy full sone,
There is no thing so sure on earth but changeth as the Mone.
What pleasure hath the riche or ease more then the pore,
Although he haue a plesant house his trouble is the more.
They bowe and speake him fayre, which seke to suck his blood,
And some do wishe his soule in hell and all to haue his good.
The coueting of the goodes doth nought but dull the spirite,
And some men chaunce to tast the sower that gropeth for the swete
The riche is still enuied by those which eate his bred,
With fawning spech and flattering tales his eares are dayly fed.
In fine I see and proue the riche haue many foes,
He slepeth best and careth lest that litle hath to lose.
As time requireth now who would avoide much strife,
Were better liue in pore estate then leade a princes life.
To passe those troblesome times I see but little choise,
But help to waile with those that wepe & laugh when they reioise
For as we se to day our brother brought in care,
To morow may we haue such chance to fall with him in snare,
Of this we may be sure, who thinkes to sit most fast,
Shal sonest fal like wethered leaues that cannot bide a blast.
Though that the flood be great, the ebbe as lowe doth ronne,
When euery man hath playd his part our pagent shalbe donne.
Who trustes this wretched world I hold him worse then mad,
Here is not one that fereth god the best is all to badde.
For those that seme as saintes are deuilles in their dedes:
Though [that] the earth bringes forth some flowers it beareth many wedes.
I se no present help from mischief to preuaile,
But flee the seas of worldly cares or beare a quiet sayle.
Bb3v
For who that medleth least shall saue him sesfe from smart,
Who styrres an oare in euery boat shal play a folish part.
| "Songes and Sonettes written by the ryght honorable
Lorde Henry Haward late Earle of Surrey, and other" | |