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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=366078" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Of the Mean and Sure Estate</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">My mother's maids, when they did sew and spin,<br>They sang sometime a song of the field mouse,<br>That, for because her livelood was but thin,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Would needs go seek her townish sister's house.<br>She thought herself endurèd too much pain;<br>The stormy blasts her cave so sore did souse</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That when the furrows swimmèd with the rain,<br>She must lie cold and wet in sorry plight;<br>And worse than that, bare meat there did remain</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To comfort her when she her house had dight;<br>Sometime a barley corn; sometime a bean;<br>For which she laboured hard both day and night</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In harvest time whilst she might go and glean;<br>And where store was stroyèd with the flood,<br>Then well away! for she undone was clean.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then was she fain to take instead of food<br>Sleep, if she might, her hunger to beguile.<br>'My sister,' quod she, 'hath a living good,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And hence from me she dwelleth not a mile.<br>In cold and storm she lieth warm and dry<br>In bed of down; the dirt doth not defile</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Her tender foot, she laboureth not as I.<br>Richly she feedeth and at the richman's cost,<br>And for her meat she needs not crave nor cry.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">By sea, by land, of the delicates, the most<br>Her cater seeks, and spareth for no peril.<br>She feedeth on boiled bacon meet and roast,</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> And hath thereof neither charge nor travail;<br>And when she list, the liquor of the grape<br>Doth glad her heart till that her belly swell.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And at this journey she maketh but a jape;<br>So forth she goeth, trusting of all this wealth<br>With her sister her part so for to shape,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That if she might keep herself in health,<br>To live a lady while her life doth last.<br>And to the door now is she come by stealth,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And with her foot anon she scrapeth full fast.<br>Th' other for fear durst not well scarce appear,<br>Of every noise so was the wretch aghast.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">At last she askèd softly who was there.<br>And in her language, as well as she could,<br>'Peep!' quod the other. 'Sister, I am here.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Peace,' quod the towny mouse, 'why speakest thou so loud?'<br>And by the hand she took her fair and well.<br>'Welcome,' quod she, 'my sister, by the Rood!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She feasted her, that joy it was to tell<br>The fare they had; they drank the wine so clear,<br>And as to purpose now and then it fell,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">She cheerèd her with 'How, sister, what cheer!'<br>Amids this joy befell a sorry chance,<br>That, well away! the stranger bought full dear</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The fare she had, for, as she look askance,<br>Under a stool she spied two steaming eyes<br>In a round head with sharp ears. In France</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Was never mouse so fear'd, for the unwise<br>Had not i-seen such a beast before,<br>Yet had nature taught her after her guise</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To know her foe and dread him evermore.<br>The towny mouse fled, she know whither to go;<br>Th' other had no shift, but wonders sore</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Feard of her life. At home she wished her tho,<br>And to the door, alas! as she did skip,<br>The Heaven it would, lo! and eke her chance was so,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">At the threshold her silly foot did trip;<br>And ere she might recover it again,<br>The traitor cat had caught her by the hip,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And made her there against her will remain,<br>That had forgotten her poor surety and rest<br>For seeming wealth wherein she thought to reign.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Alas, my Poynz, how men do seek the best<br>And find the worst, by error as they stray!<br>And no marvail; when sight is so opprest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And blind the guide; anon out of the way<br>Goeth guide and all in seeking quiet life.<br>O wretched minds, there is no gold that may</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Grant that ye seek; no war, no peace, no strife.<br>No, no, although thy head were hooped with gold,<br>Sergeant with mace, hawbert, sword, nor knife,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Cannot repulse the care that follow should.<br>Each kind of life hath with him his disease.<br>Live in delight even as thy lust would,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And thou shalt find, when lust doth most thee please,<br>It irketh straight and by itself doth fade.<br>A small thing it is that may thy mind appease.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">None of ye all there is that is so mad<br>To seek grapes upon brambles or breres;<br>Nor none, I trow, that hath his wit so bad</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To set his hay for conies over rivers,<br>Ne ye set not a drag-net for an hare;<br>And yet the thing that most is your desire</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ye do mis-seek with more travail and care.<br>Make plain thine heart, that it be not knotted<br>With hope or dread, and see thy will be bare</div><div style="margin:10px 0">From all affects, whom vice hath ever spotted.<br>Thyself content with that is thee assigned,<br>And use it well that is to thee allotted.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then seek no more out of thyself to find<br>The thing that thou hast sought so long before,<br>For thou shalt feel it sitting in thy mind.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Mad, if ye list to continue your sore,<br>Let present pass and gape on time to come,<br>And deep yourself in travail more and more.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Henceforth, my Poynz, this shall be all and some,<br>These wretched fools shall have nought else of me;<br>But to the great God and to his high doom,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">None other pain pray I for them to be,<br>But when the rage doth lead them from the right,<br>That, looking backward, Virtue they may see,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Even as she is, so goodly fair and bright;<br>And whilst they clasp their lusts in arms across,<br>Grant them, good Lord, as Thou mayst of Thy might<br>To fret inward for losing such a loss.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=David+McKee+Wright">David McKee Wright</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=366078" data-title="Of the Mean and Sure Estate de David McKee Wright" data-description="My mother's maids, when they did sew and spin,
They sang sometime a song of the field mouse,
That, for because her livelood was but thin,

Would needs go seek her townish sister's house.
She thought herself endurèd too much pain;
The stormy blast..."></div>
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