Classic Poem

I thought (my George) thy muse would fully fit
My troubled mynde, with heast of setled doome,
And tell the trade, wherein I sure might sit,
From nipping neede in wealthy walled roome:
But out alas! in tedious tale
She telles the toyles of all,
And forgeth fates t'attend estates,
That seeld or never fall.

Bereaving so the hope that earst I held,
To finde at last a sight to set me sure,
In profites path my thriftlesse feete to weald,
Or walke the way that age might well indure,
Sith haplesse haps, or conscience crackes,
Or toyles of tedious waight,
She proves the sees of all degrees,
Each course with cares affraight.

And yet I smell whereto thy tale doth tend,
And smyle to see thy queint conceit therein.
I write not here thy meaning to amend;
Against thy wordes this answere I begin:
In prime to touch the merchants trade,
Which furrowes fishfull floodes,
Whose hap, thou saist, is lightly hurt
With losse of life and goods.

Thou saist his ship sits sincking on the sande
Of Sillas seas, or on Caribdis rockes,
When nothing lesse, the sea more sure then land,
Then senced fortes, more trustie hollowe blockes.
Let Neptune rage with wayward waves,
A figge for Aeoles windes,
By anchors stay in harbour gay,
The merchants succour findes.

As for the man that furrowes in the fielde,
Distrusting gaines that waltering waves afforde,
The fees that oxe and fruitfull sheepe doth yeelde,
And parched fieldes, and northren dcwes accorde,
His paines do passing pleasure quit,
When greenie landes appeares:
He smyles in sweate, when harvest heate
Dries up the corned eares.

The craftes man, he that lives by handie skill,
By toyle and trade obtaineth needefull gaines:
Ynough's as good as any feast, sith will
And quiet mynde contented so remaines;
He lives at rest in meane estate,
Contemning fortunes blast,
While such as hye aloft do flye,
He sees to fall as fast.

The noble hart, whome nature pricks to prancke
In martiall fieldes, amid the clattering crewe,
For high renoune to furnish up the ranke,
Thy Muse to daunt (oh!) how the same I rewe.
Sith pen, ne tong, nor minde can match
With due deserved hire,
The factes of those, which force their foes
By helmets helpe retire.

The courtier he, that hops for high degree,
At last attaines his wel deserved hap,
For service done he must rewarded be,
And gwerdon his the marke he leveld at;
Which gotten, if he loose againe,
The fault ascribe his owne,
But setled wits escape the fits
To carelesse courtiers knowne.

The masking mynd that mounts amid the starrs,
And wakes to write, by skill of planets course
Foretels of dearth, of plentie, peace, and warres,
Of temperate times, of hoarie Hyems force;
Not only skill, but lasting fame,
When death deprives his dayes,
He reapes with groates, to garde his coates,
Art thrives at all assayes.

Physicians dregs who tasteth not betime,
May come too short, if faintnesse feare to bleede:
Mas' doctours drinke deserves this praise of mine,
I never knewe the man it stoode in steede;
Yet one kynde tale, and one kynde drinke,
One doctour sure hath got,
A tawnie velvet coate and pouch;
What others get God wot.

Though rents be great that runs to clergies share,
And more th' account their soules doth rest upon,
Yet Christe his truth to preach if nere they spare,
But feede the flocke, the account is cast anon;
And in reward of service done,
At last appointed houre,
Where Christ doth reigne they shall attaine
To shroude in heavenly bowre.

The lawyer he, the man that measures right
By reason, rule, and lawe, conjoynd in one,
Thy roving Muse squares much with his delight,
Whose only toyle all states depend upon:
For lawyer gone, good right adieu;
Dick Swash must rule the roaste,
And madding might would banish quite
Tom Troth from English coast.

In corner close, mid bookes of crabbed sense,
For ten yeres day sith sore he beates his braines,
To finde the right of things from foule offence,
Who can deprive such toyle of hoped gaines?
In doubtfull doomes he reaves the right,
And throweth force along,
With doubtfull praise his same to raise,
In fayth, thou dost him wrong.