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| MINE own John Poins, since ye delight to know | |
| The causes why that homeward I me draw, | |
| And fly the press of Courts, where so they go; | |
| Rather than to live thrall under the awe | |
| Of lordly looks; wrapped within my cloak; | 5 |
| To will and lust learning to set a law: | |
| It is not that because I scorn or mock | |
| The power of them, whom fortune here hath lent | |
| Charge over us, of right to strike the stroke: | |
| But true it is that I have always meant | 10 |
| Less to esteem them than the common sort, | |
| Of outward things that judge in their intent | |
| Without regard what inward doth resort. | |
| I grant, sometime of glory that the fire | |
| Doth touch my heart. Me list not to report | 15 |
| Blame by honour, and honour to desire. | |
| But how may I this honour now attain, | |
| That cannot dye the colour black a liar? | |
| My Poins, I cannot frame my tune to feign, | |
| To cloak the truth, for praise without desert | 20 |
| Of them that list all vice for to retain. | |
| I cannot honour them that set their part | |
| With Venus, and Bacchus, all their life long; | |
| Nor hold my peace of them, although I smart | |
| I cannot crouch nor kneel to such a wrong; | 25 |
| To worship them like God on earth alone, | |
| That are as wolves these sely lambs among. | |
| I cannot with my words complain and moan, | |
| And suffer nought; nor smart without complaint: | |
| Nor turn the word that from my mouth is gone. | 30 |
| I cannot speak and look like as a saint; | |
| Use wiles for wit, and make deceit a pleasure | |
| Call craft counsel, for lucre still to paint. | |
| I cannot wrest the law to fill the coffer, | |
| With innocent blood to feed myself fat, | 35 |
| And do most hurt, where that most help I offer. | |
| I am not he, that can allow the state | |
| Of high Cæsar, and damn Cato to die, | |
| That with his death did scape out of the gate | |
| From Cæsar’s hands, if Livy doth not lie; | 40 |
| And would not live where liberty was lost; | |
| So did his heart the common wealth apply. | |
| I am not he, such eloquence to boast, | |
| To make the crow in singing as the swan; | |
| Nor call the lion of coward beasts the most; | 45 |
| That cannot take a mouse as the cat can: | |
| And he that dieth for hunger of the gold, | |
| Call him Alexander; and say that Pan | |
| Passeth Apollo in music manifold: | |
| Praise Sir Topas for a noble tale, | 50 |
| And scorn the story that the Knight told: | |
| Praise him for counsel that is drunk of ale; | |
| Grin when he laughs, that beareth all the sway, | |
| Frown when he frowns, and groan when he is pale | |
| On others’ lust to hang both night and day. | 55 |
| None of these points could ever frame in me: | |
| My wit is nought, I cannot learn the way. | |
| And much the less of things that greater be, | |
| That asken help of colours to devise: | |
| To join the mean with each extremity, | 60 |
| With nearest virtue aye to clothe the vice: | |
| And, as to purpose likewise it shall fall, | |
| To press the virtue that it may not rise: | |
| As drunkenness good fellowship to call; | |
| The friendly foe, with his fair double face, | 65 |
| Say he is gentle, and courteous therewithal; | |
| Affirm that Favel hath a goodly grace | |
| In eloquence: and cruelty to name | |
| Zeal of justice, and change in time and place: | |
| And he that suffereth offence without blame, | 70 |
| Call him pitiful; and him true and plain, | |
| That raileth rechless unto each man’s shame. | |
| Say he is rude, that cannot lie and feign; | |
| The lecher a lover; and tyranny | |
| To be the right of a prince’s reign: | 75 |
| I cannot I, no, no, it will not be. | |
| This is the cause that I could never yet | |
| Hang on their sleeves that weigh, as thou mayst see, | |
| A chip of chance more than a pound of wit: | |
| This maketh me at home to hunt and hawk; | 80 |
| And in foul weather at my book to sit; | |
| In frost and snow, then with my bow to stalk; | |
| No man doth mark whereso I ride or go: | |
| In lusty leas at liberty I walk; | |
| And of these news I feel nor weal nor woe; | 85 |
| Save that a clog doth hang yet at my heel. | |
| No force for that, for it is order’d so, | |
| That I may leap both hedge and dyke full well. | |
| I am not now in France, to judge the wine; | |
| With savoury sauce those delicates to feel: | 90 |
| Nor yet in Spain, where one must him incline, | |
| Rather than to be, outwardly to seem. | |
| I meddle not with wits that be so fine; | |
| Nor Flander’s cheer lets not my sight to deem | |
| Of black, and white; nor takes my wits away | 95 |
| With beastliness; such do those beasts esteem, | |
| Nor I am not, where truth is given in prey | |
| For money, poison, and treason; of some | |
| A common practice, used night and day. | |
| But I am here in Kent and Christendom, | 100 |
| Among the Muses, where I read and rhyme; | |
| Where if thou list, mine own John Poins, to come, | |
| Thou shalt be judge how I do spend my time. | |
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