Classic Poem

In 1644
Why let her go, I'll vex my self no more,
Lest my heart break, as did my stable door
'Twas but a Mare; if she be gone, she's gone;
'Tis not a Mare that I do stand upon
Now by this Cross I am so temperate grown,
I'll bridle nature, since my mare is gone
I have a little learning, and less wit,
That wealth is sure, no theif can pilfer it
All worldly goods are frail, and variable,
Yea very Jades are now become unstable.
Riches they say have wings, my mare had so,
For though she had legs, yet she could hardly go.
But thieves and fate have such a strong command,
To make those go, which have no feet to stand.
She was well skil'd in writing Elegies,
And every mile writes, Here my Rider lyes
Now since I've nere a beast to ride upon,
Wou'd I might never go, my verse shall run.
I'll mount on Pegasus , for hee's so poor,
From thief or true-man, one may ride secure.
I would not rack invention for a curse,
To plague the Thief, for fear I make him worse.
I would not have him hang'd, for that would be,
Sufficient for the law, but not for me
In charity I wish him no more pain,
But to restore me home my Mare again
And 'cause I would not have good customes alter,
I wish who has the Mare, may have the halter.