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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=519541" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Country Mouse and the Town Mouse</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<br>Would needs go seek her townish sister's house. <br>She thought herself endured to much pain: <br>The stormy blasts her cave so sore did souse <br>That when the furrows swimmed with the rain <br>She must lie cold and wet in sorry plight, <br>And, worse than that, bare meat there did remain <br>To comfort her when she her house had dight: <br>Sometime a barleycorn, sometime a bean, <br>For which she labored hard both day and night <br>In harvest time, whilst she might go and glean. <br>And when her store was 'stroyed with the flood, <br>Then well away, for she undone was clean. <br>Then was she fain to take, instead of food, <br>Sleep if she might, her hunger to beguile. <br>&quot;My sister,&quot; qoth she, &quot;hath a living good, <br>And hence from me she dwelleth not a mile. <br>In cold and storm she lieth warm and dry <br>In bed of down, and dirt doth not defile <br>Her tender foot, she laboreth not as I. <br>Richly she feedeth and at the rich man's cost, <br>And for her meat she needs not crave nor cry. <br>By sea, by land, of the delicates the most <br>Her cater seeks and spareth for no peril. <br>She feedeth on boiled, baken meat, and roast, <br>And hath thereof neither charge nor travail. <br>And, when she list, the liquor of the grape <br>Doth goad her heart till that her belly swell.&quot; <br>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 <br>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, <br>And with her foot anon she scrapeth full fast. <br>The other for fear durst not well scarce appear, <br>Of every noise so was the wretch aghast. <br>&quot;Peace,&quot; quoth the town mouse, &quot;why speakest thou so loud?&quot; <br>And by the hand she took her fair and well. <br>&quot;Welcome,&quot; quoth she, &quot;my sister, by the rood.&quot; <br>She feasted her that joy is was to tell <br>The fare they had; they drank the wine so clear; <br>And as to purpose now and then it fell <br>She cheered her with: &quot;How, sister, what cheer?&quot; <br>Amids this joy there fell a sorry chance, <br>That, wellaway, the stranger bought full dear <br>The fare she had. For as she looks, askance, <br>Under a stool she spied two steaming eyes <br>In a round head with sharp ears. In France <br>was never mouse so feared, for though the unwise<br>Had not yseen such a beast before, <br>Yet had nature taught her after her guise <br>To know her foe and dread him evermore. <br>The town mouse fled; she knew whither to go. <br>The other had no shift, but wondrous sore <br>Feared of her life, at home she wished her, though. <br>And to the door, alas, as she did skip <br>(Th' heaven it would, lo, and eke her chance was so) <br>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 <br>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. <br>Alas, my Poynz, how men do seek the best<br>And find the worst, by error as they stray. <br>And no marvel, when sight is so opprest <br>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 <br>Grant that ye seek, no war, no peace, no strife, <br>No, no, although thy head was hoopt with gold,<br>Sergeant with mace, haubert, sword, nor knife <br>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,<br>And thou shalt find when lust doth most thee please <br>It irketh strait and by itself doth fade. <br>A small thing it is that may thy mind appease. <br>None of ye all there is that is so mad <br>To seek grapes upon brambles or breers,<br>Not none I trow that hath his wit so bad <br>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 <br>Ye do misseek with more travail and care. <br>Make plain thine heart, that it be not notted <br>With hope or dread, and see thy will be bare <br>>From all effects whom vice hath ever spotted. <br>Thyself content with that is thee assigned, <br>And use it well that is to thee allotted, <br>Then seek no more out of thyself to find <br>The thing that thou hast sought so long before, <br>For thou shalt find it sitting in thy mind. <br>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. <br>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<br>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 <br>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=Sir+Thomas+Wyatt">Sir Thomas Wyatt</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=519541" data-title="The Country Mouse and the Town Mouse de Sir Thomas Wyatt" 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 endured to much pain: 
The stormy blasts..."></div>
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