Classic Poem

Where vertue may, or vallor one advaunce,
To base his hap a loute to live belowe,
Or credite seeke with men of meanest chaunce,
A fearefull hart a dunghill minde doe showe;
On thornes no grapes, but sower slowes doth growe;
Even so by sottes, no fame, but shame doth rise,
A faire catch for such to count thee wise.

The forward minde doth covet this at least,
To prease, where hee is poorest of the traine,
And not to live with those (himselfe) the best,
For sure hee shall a lowsie kingdome gaine,
Where under him do none but beggers raine:
By learninges lore who doth the idiot schoole,
In fine, will prove himselfe a passing foole.

The highest trees doth keepe the under spray
From Phaebus gleames, from sugred dewes that fall:
So mounting mindes aloft doth beare the sway,
When meaner wittes doth live belowe in thrall;
They sucke the sweetes when sottes do gnawe the gall,
They wrong by might, their will makes right a mome:
Who prickes at such but seeldome shooteth home.

Such is their force where credite beareth sway,
A perfect tale although the wronged tell,
Their thwarting speach what they mislike will stay;
The wronged wight with wrath may haply swell,
And pleades a fresh, though not so passing well:
Then, sausie knave, how mallapeart hee is,
Away go packe! your purpose you shall mis.

But if the sot, which in their favour stand,
Do stammer forth a patched tale of lyes,
Their helping speach will force him understand,
The way and meanes afresh for to devise,
To frame his talke, from shewe of trueth to rise:
A vertue straunge their wordes can bring to passe,
That fooles seeme wise, the wise in shew an asse.

What freer life then others to commaund?
What happier state then for to live in rest?
What greater wealth then what a man demaund?
What credite like the countnaunce of the best?
For thralles it were a heaven to reach the lest,
But they aloft whom vertue doth advaunce,
If more may be, injoye more happie chaunce.

Who will not, then, both seeke and double seeke
To reach this hap with hazard at the first?
The foreward wight, though fortune give the gleeke,
Afresh will toyle, till that his hart doth burst:
If still shee frowne, in faith, the man is curst;
A fall (saith he) who recketh such a losse
An asse shall ride, and no hie sturring horsse.

For proofe againe, the huge and mightie oke,
Whose withered roote from falling cannot stay,
But downe hee comes by sturdie Boreas stroke;
His fall, God wot, doth crush the under spray.
Even so it fares with those that beareth sway;
If by mishap they wrapped be in thrall,
The poore doth beare the burthen of their fall.

For where as mindes by mischiefe raisde too hie
Sedition sowe, their native soile to wring,
When princes might doth make such rebels flie,
The leaders chiefe, well horst, away do fling,
When pesaunts stay, and Sursum corde sing:
They sue for grace, safe in anothers land,
When toyling thralles are trussed out of hand.

If in abuse of both their states be best,
Although the best in faith is very bad,
Deserving well, they are farre better blest:
They roist in silkes, when clownes in raggs are clad;
They have their will, and what can more be had?
Who will not then, how so sly hap saith nay,
Seeke out this chaunce, if vertue sayes hee may?