| |
| THIS 1 moov’d the prudent hermits to forsake | |
| Country, acquaintance, parents, livings, land, | |
| And in the wilderness a cell to make, | |
| Where they, secur’d from injuries, might stand; | |
| Though mosse, not downe, they us’d instead of bed, | 5 |
| And were with hips and hawes for dainties fed. | |
| |
| It’s ease enough, whereas may lodge Content; | |
| It’s cheere enough, where Nature is suffis’d; | |
| It’s right enough, whereas no wrong is meant; | |
| It’s love enough, where no hate is devis’d: | 10 |
| Better to live alone in peace and rest, | |
| Than ’mongst the multitude and be opprest. | |
| |
| Some unfrequented woods I seeke to find, | |
| Some unknowne desarts journey I to see, | |
| What Solitarines hath there assign’de | 15 |
| For such as her inhabitants shall be; | |
| The earth I survey for the secret’st field, | |
| To prove what entertainment it may yield. | |
| |
| The lynx, that is the clearest beast of sight, | |
| Seemeth to shed a showre of christall teares; | 20 |
| The lyon, monarch for his matchlesse might, | |
| Offers no force to load my life with feares; | |
| Tygres are tame, bulls hurt me not with horne; | |
| Woolves are like lambs, by them I am not torne. | |
| |
| My misadventures doe them all amaze, | 25 |
| Of mine afflictions they remaine in awe; | |
| On my mishaps and my misfortunes gaze, | |
| As though they so strange objects never saw: | |
| So forlorne like I passe, so vile, so base, | |
| That they relent to view my ruthfull case. | 30 |
| |
| Thus I with eyes of farre discerning mind | |
| Homeward convert a distort countenance, | |
| In esperance acquaintance some to find, | |
| Which might eye-witnes, unexpected chance, | |
| Earth’s cormorant! heere, to thy scandall, see | 35 |
| The mercy which the mercilesse shew me. | |
| |
| Thou wilt not alter, but from have to hold, | |
| From catch to keepe, from much to gather more, | |
| From cottages to farmes, from lead to gold, | |
| From competence into superfluous store: | 40 |
| Thy nature nought to such but envie yields, | |
| As have a meadow greener than thy fields. | |
| |
| Might I heire to some usurer be found, | |
| Whose gorged chests surfet with cramming gold; | |
| Whose coffers with commodities abound, | 45 |
| So full that they no sterling more may hold; | |
| Rome, rascals, then, make space and grace for me, | |
| Whereas my worship shall in person be. | |
| |
| I would elect, flaunt, cut and swash for mates, | |
| For choice companions, pleasure, mirth, delight, | 50 |
| For equals, gentles, honourables, states: | |
| Ajax would not presume to proove my might, | |
| Mylo would beare his bull, and let me goe, | |
| Malitious Momus durst not be my foe; | |
| |
| Dignitie seem inferiour, and too bad | 55 |
| To be my shadowe; Science would attend, | |
| Invention practize arts to make me glad, | |
| Poetry my profession would commend, | |
| Dutifull loyalty would humbly greete | |
| My person, passing through the prospicuous streete. | 60 |
| |
| But now, the worst are censured too good, | |
| The miscreants, the abjects, the forlorne, | |
| Adjudging baseness, borne of better blood, | |
| A corner of my company doe scorn: | |
| So odible an object am I thought, | 65 |
| Contemned, forsaken, loath’d, and set at nought. | |
| |
| Yet, miser! thus disparaged, I live; | |
| Succour and meanes of maintenance to mee | |
| The heate, the ayre, the woods and waters give, | |
| Though fortunatelings hate it so to bee: | 70 |
| I borrow not,—doubting to be denide; | |
| I steale not,—fearing my life should be tride. | |
| |
| Come, staff! and manage mine unhappy hand; | |
| Scrip! guard my shoulders, burthen light to bare: | |
| Three merry mates we ’gainst the sun will stand, | 75 |
| Solace to see, that comforts none can heare: | |
| The lighter purse, the lesse the cares are found; | |
| Hearke! while I whistle to the winds around. | |
