Classic Poem

I waying once my harmes by others health,
By just account I sound the felfe same thing.
Which weand my wo did worke anothers wealth,
Which wrought my pain to some did pleasure bring:
Thus, cloyd with care, to see my lucklesse lot,
My senses fayld, as though I were a sot.

Yet Sopors beames so could not cleare my brest,
But stormes of care did shower in my thought;
Thus slumber sweete did yeald but little rest,
For pinching paine supprest that pleasure wrought;
But as my woes did wander here and there,
My thought I sawe an aged man appeare.

Yet such a one as care me seemd to cloy,
And Patience he did name him selfe to me,
Who bad me straight to bannish all annoy,
And of these doubtes I soone an end should see:
Then I with him pursude the most resort
Unto a place which seemde a princes court.

Whereas, my thought, sat crownd a famous queene,
By due desart to beare the regall sway,
Whose princely rule hath seldome earst ben seene,
As though the gods dame nature did obey,
That justice should degrade them of each grace,
Her to invest with rule of vertues mace.

Upon whose grace did nobles grave attend,
By whose foresight in peace her subjects live,
And valiaunt peeres were ready to defend,
If forreine force would once adventure give
By warlike frayes to worke our great unrest,
With fire, sworde, and piercing speare in rest.

Within this court, clothed in honest shewe,
Was Envie, Hate, Ambition, and Deceit,
On whome to waite, whereas these fiends did go,
Base minded wights were ready at the gate,
Which never sought that vertue should advance
Their hautie mindes to height of happie chance.

There might I see of men another race,
Which seemd to wayle their woes with weeping eye,
Whom these same sprites had shaken once of grace
By false suspect and filthy flatterie;
And well I markt how they did crouch and creepe,
And all for grace, which evermore did sleepe.

Then I espide another valiant crewe,
Which lookt aloft, by vertue to aspire
Unto the roome to their desart ydewe,
If due desart had reapt deserved hire;
But vertue gapt, and gained nought but plums,
For faltterie catcht before they fell the crums.

Quoth Grayberd then, such once was my good hap,
To be advaunst to height of great renoune,
But I, too soone, was caught in Envies trap,
Where false suspect by flatterie kept me downe;
Then patience I, perforce, a vertue made,
And left with losse the countries tickle trade.

The[n] foorth we go into another place
By outward shew, where saints, my thought, did sit,
Whose gentle speach presaged endlesse grace,
Their loose their gaine, they voucht by sacred writ:
These prelates were; their words deserv'd their roome,
But sure their deedes I leave to others doome.

Hypocrisie did beare a vengeance sway,
His double tong did bleare the clergies eye;
He still affirmde, t'was true that they did say,
Gainst their device a thousand woes did cry:
Mas. Ignoraunce a minister was made,
Who babbled much, yet wist not what he sayd.

Yet sure this clarke did so in Scriptures creepe,
As voucht the same to cloake each crime he could:
Pasce oves he tooke for grasing sheepe,
Which well he fed, and daily view'd his fould;
And yet this sot with pence procur'd such grace,
As oft he wrought true preachers out of place.

Then out we goe into a pleasant plaine,
In armour bright where gallants we espy;
The captaine stird the souldiers rawe to traine,
Of some unwisht, unwares their foes drewe nye:
The cannon crackes like thunder claps did sing,
At trumpets sound the horse men forward fling.

In formost frunt the fearelesse youthes did fight,
Which honour sought, and so with honour dyde:
The fencer there prov'd not the forwardst wight,
Base minded Dick the spoyle, not blowes, applyde:
The coward yet a loose did catch a licke,
As soone as he which throngd among the thicke.

When fearelesse blowes had driven their foes away,
To slash and slay the cowards did not spare;
When spoile was given, the souldiers paines to pay,
Who best deserv'd did reape the barest share:
Thus vallor fought, and falshoode fleest the spoile;
The coward thriv'de, who least of all did toile.

These bloudie broiles, mee thought, wee then forsooke,
And soone wee slipt into a stately hall.
Now well apayde about the same I looke,
For glad I was I scapt the souldiers thrall;
And proudly then I throngd amid the preace,
For that their weedes bewrayde the men of peace.

Within this hall were kept the princes courtes,
Where lawyers sate as judges in the same:
To shew their griefes more hast then needes resortes,
Both hie and lowe, the riche and poore of name:
Pro et contra , for pence at every barre,
In right and wronge the lawyers were at jarre,

In faith, quoth I, these men deserveth praise,
For justice cause which thus imployes their paine;
But I to[o] hie a note their names did raise:
In right or wrong they still did gape for gaine,
And as I walkt I saw one wrapt in woe,
Which much complainde of matter de post facto .

Speake, English man, what meanes these words? (quoth I).
Oh fyr! hee said, a quillet in the lawe
Alas it is, which makes mee howle and crie.
And looking backe another man I sawe,
Of whom I askt, why hee did looke so glum?
Hee plagued was with plees of non est factum .

I, smyling then to heare the clownish drone,
By neede inforst to talke hee wist not what,
But as I learnd the cause of all his mone,
More pittie sure, a lawyers friend how that
To pay him pence did enter into band,
The which hee seald, and livered with his hand.

But after, catcht by craft the selfe same bill,
The former seale he falslie toke away,
An other seald the same which he did spill,
And unsuspect the bond there downe did lay,
Which forset once, in law they fall at jarre:
The seale was off was pleaded then in barre.

There might I see releasses finely framde,
Provided yet, that if such thinges were done,
Which latter wordes, by former force were lamde:
Who so releast a faire thred then hee spunne,
With thousand toyes, which I do here omitt,
Did cousening craft within his capcase knitt.

I lately feard to see the fearelesse blowes,
The proud attempes assayd by desperate men,
Here rouled bookes my manhoode over throwes,
I durst not bide the truncheon of a pen;
Yet well I markt how mercie bared sway
The conquerd wightes were prisoners sent away.

But for this grace their raunsome sure was great:
The gaylor fleest, the lawyer had a share;
If pence were spent, cold yrons made him sweate,
Hard beds well payde, poore cheere was costly fare,
Agreeved much, extortion bare such sway,
To Patience I, meethought, these words did say.

Can cousening shiftes thus conscience foyle in fight?
Where is no right, may hellhoundes thus extort?
Shall perjurie condemne the guiltlesse wight?
And may it bee, suborning should support
The lewde in lies, when grace is not their stay?
Can justice rule a right with parciall sway?

Content thy selfe, quoth Patience then to mee:
Good lawes are made to punish their amisse,
But pence their wronge doth couler, oft we see,
And want doth ware the poore mans right, I wisse;
And thus thou seest presented to thy sight,
The proverbe old, how might doth maister right.

Then out wee goe, I glad to leave this hell;
But soone wee slipt into as hard a vaine,
Where usurie with bagges of gold did swell,
Who much complainde of penall statutes paine,
And joynde with craft the same for to prevent,
Now this, now that, the myser doth invent.

On casuall chaunce I may my monie lend,
Yet hassard small shall happen by my marte:
If I my wife, my servaunt, child, or friend,
Do goe to Powles, and home againe revert,
Then twentie in the hundred you shall pay:
This gaine is small, forsooth, doth Holdfast say.

Collusion then did catch him by the backe,
And seasde his pence, which songe loth to depart.
To levey mends the harmles went to wracke;
Thus salved was his sore by others smart.
Covetousnes went myching upp and downe,
His jacket pilde, and threadbare was his gowne.

But banckrowte sure did brave it with the best:
His cape of cloth with velvet linde within,
His hoase of silke, with stitches straunglie drest,
More cost, hee said, more worship did him win;
But well I markt how soone this pride decayd:
His heeles he tooke when debtes should be desrayd.

Some kept their house, and durst not shewe their face;
Some were betrayde, and came in cutthrotes handes;
Then plees of neede did purchase litle grace,
Past starting now, they, tyde in Darbyes bandes,
In prison vile of force must lye and rott,
Till they have paid their debt and cost[s], God wott.

Then forth wee goe into a paltrie towne,
Where underprops eche stagering house did stay.
I chaunste to meete a sillie countrie clowne,
Of whom I askt, what wrought their townes decay?
Who aunswerd straight, your masships honour sees
Yond goodly place; that pluckt us on our knees.

Yond stately walles our chiefest stones did steale,
Which were the stay unto our feeble farmes,
For want of strength then did our houses reale,
And, worse then that, to worke our greater harmes,
Inclosures great so in our commons creepe,
Where kine wee kept, wee sca[r]se can keepe a sheepe.

Yet racked rentes increase our landlords gaine:
Wee moile, wee toile, wee worke, both morne and even,
Our landlords reape reward for all our paine.
To pay our rentes, and make the world even,
Doe what we can, wee compasse very hard,
With farmers now the wonted world is mard.

When hee did raise, besides his landlords rent,
Old gold good store, to serve him at his neede,
The cribel loase about his bord then went;
Salt beefe, good souce, their hungrie mawes did feede,
A stand of ale hee ever had in store,
Well come, gossipe, a cruse of ale to the dore!

Then droyling Dicke, and toyling Tom did sturre
To mucke his ground to make a fatter croppe,
To serve his hogges poore Madge his maide did spurre:
For winters cold he hedge rowes large might loppe,
To ride abroade he seeldome lackt a mare,
And in this sort the fermers life did ware.

But now, God wott, our rentes we hardly pay,
To barlie crustes is turnde our cribel bread,
Where beefe, brawne, souce, our hungers did allay,
On cruddes and cheese wee hungerly do feede,
A pecke of malte doth make him ale good store:
Wellcome, gossip; no drinke now to the dore.

Where Hicke and Tom, his boyes, about did moyle,
He delves, hee digges, he labours for his hire,
And Joane his wife, perforce herselfe doth droyle:
In steede of woode now pestrow makes good fire;
Where earst hee ridde abroade uppon his nagge,
For falling now on tenne toes hee doth lagge.

Thus John Adroynes did wray the farmers woe,
And I mee thought did pittie much their want.
Quoth Patience then, now time doth serve to showe
The cause why care thy heavie hart doth haunt;
Thou sayest thy want is weade with others wealth,
Thy harmes are payste with weighes of others health.

Good reason why thou viewdst in courtiers trade,
Both good and bad a like did gaine expecte.
A like? not so, the good by vertuous ayde,
The bad did seeke by traynes of false suspect
The best to throw, from grace despite to spell,
Whilst they by crast did catch such crummes as fell.

Now hypocrites, with shew of honest life,
In favour creepes, when goodmen be disdainde.
Now souldiers winne the field with bloudy knife,
When cowards filch which their adventure gainde:
Now cutthrotes thrive where conscience beares no sway,
When simple men with want are worne away.

Loe! thus thou seest the toyle of good and badde,
Thy owne the choice their want or wealth to shunne,
The good with care when craft with cost is cladde;
Yet if thou meanst the good mans race to runne,
Of Patience here receive dame Vertues sheeld,
Which to thy fame a sure force will yeeld.

Noe poore mans cry the conscience large shal blame,
Ne common speach a cutthroate will thee call,
Report of craft then shall not wronge thy fame,
Ne men will say thy pride will have a fall.
This bone he cast for mee to gnaw upon,
And said, Adieu; of force I must begon.

I waking then amased, in my minde
Through this my dreame, gan checke my busie braine,
But better wayde some fruite therein I finde,
Which aunswers full of this report the paine,
And craves a place of dutie with the rest,
Provided yet the reader do not wrest

My wordes amisse; which doe no evill import,
To taunt the lewde, to praise the good a worke;
A fancie framde to teach the simple sort
What huge deceite in honest shew doth lurke;
A toy to warne the lewd by others shame
To shunne such faultes as breedeth filthie blame.