Classic Poem

To honest gamesome Robin Armin, That tickles the spleene like an harmeles vermen.

A RMINE , what shall I say of thee, but this,
Thou art a foole and knaue? Both? fie, I misse;
And wrong thee much, sith thou in deede art neither.
Although in shew, thou playest both together
Wee all (that's kings and all) but players are
Vpon this earthly stage; and should haue care
To play our parts so properly, that wee
May at the end gaine an applauditee.
But most men ouer act, misse-act, or misse
The action which to them peculier is;
And the more high the part is which they play
The more they misse in what they do or say.
So that when off the stage, by death, they wend.
Men rather hisse at them then them commend.
But (honest Robin) thou with harmelesse mirth
Dost please the world; and (so) amongst the earth
That others but possesse with care, that stings;
So makst thy life more happy farre then kings
And so much more our loue should thee imbrace,
Sith still thou liu'st with some that dye to grace.
And yet art honest (in despight of lets.
Which earnes more praise then forced-goodnesse gets
So, play thy part, he honest still with mirth;
Then when th' art in the trying-house of earth.
Thou being his seruant whome all kings do serue.
Maist for thy part well playd like praise deserue;
For in that tyring-house when either bee,
Y' are one mans men and equall in degree.
So thou, in sport, the happiest men dost schoole —
To do as thou dost, — wisely play the foole.