<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=391749" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Le Testament: Ballade: A S'amye</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">F alse beauty that costs me so dear,<br>R ough indeed, a hypocrite sweetness,<br>A mor, like iron on the teeth and harder,<br>N amed only to achieve my sure distress,<br>C harm that's murderous, poor heart's death,<br>O covert pride that sends men to ruin,<br>I mplacable eyes, won't true redress<br>S uccour a poor man, without crushing?<br> <br>M uch better elsewhere to search for<br>A id: it would have been more to my honour:<br>R etreat I must, and fly with dishonour,<br>T hough none else then would have cast a lure.<br>H elp me, help me, you greater and lesser!<br>E nd then? With not even one blow landing?<br>Or will Pity, in line with all I ask here,<br>Succour a poor man, without crushing?<br> <br>That time will come that will surely wither<br>Your bright flower, it will wilt and yellow,<br>Then if I can grin, I'll call on laughter,<br>But, yet, that would be foolish though:<br>You'll be pale and ugly: and I'll be old,<br>Drink deep then, while the stream's still flowing:<br>And don't bring trouble on all men so,<br>Succour a poor man, without crushing.<br> <br>Amorous Prince, the greatest lover,<br>I want no evil that's of your doing,<br>But, by God, all noble hearts must offer<br>To succour a poor man, without crushing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Fran%C3%A7ois+Villon">François Villon</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <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=391749" data-title="Le Testament: Ballade: A S'amye de François Villon" data-description="F alse beauty that costs me so dear, R ough indeed, a hypocrite sweetness, A mor, like iron on the teeth and harder, N amed only to achieve my sure distress, C harm that's murderous, poor heart's death, O covert pride that sends men to ruin, I mpl..."></div> </div> </div>

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