Classic Poem

To my louing and deere mother, the citly of Hereford.

E PIG . 281.

H EREFORDE , haue with thee! nay I cannot haue
That which thou hast; for thou hast mirth and ease,—
I say not slouth, lest I should thee depraue;
Yet ease can haue no paine that can displease
Hadst thou lesse ease thy mirth would bee the more;
For painefull hands in fine make pleasant harts.
But idle hands make harts to labour sore
With sorrow that annoyes the other parts
But in thy bozome thou hast many heads
That make thee often merry at the heart;
So the disease is ease which in thee breeds,
Whereof I had in thee an infants part;
 For which vpon my knees I dayly pray
 That thou maist fall to worke and I to play.