| |
| MY mother’s maids, when they do sew and spin, | |
| They sing a song made of the fieldish mouse: | |
| That for because her livelode was but thin, | |
| Would needs go see her townish sister’s house. | |
| She thought herself endured to grievous pain, | 5 |
| The stormy blasts her cave so sore did souse; | |
| That when the furrows swimmed with the rain, | |
| She must lie cold and wet, in sorry plight; | |
| And worse than that, bare meat there did remain | |
| To comfort her, when she her house had dight; | 10 |
| Sometime a barley corn, sometime a bean; | |
| For which she laboured hard both day and night, | |
| In harvest time, while she might go and glean. | |
| And when her store was stroyed with the flood, | |
| Then wellaway, for she undone was clean: | 15 |
| Then was she fain to take, instead of food; | |
| Sleep if she might, her hunger to beguile. | |
| ‘My sister,’ quod she, ‘hath a living good; | |
| And hence from me she dwelleth not a mile. | |
| In cold and storm, she lieth warm and dry | 20 |
| In bed of down; the dirt doth not defile | |
| Her tender foot, she labours not as I. | |
| Richly she feeds, and at the rich man’s cost; | |
| And for her meat she needs not crave nor cry; | |
| By sea, by land, of delicates the most, | 25 |
| Her cater seeks, and spareth for no peril: | |
| She feeds on boil’d meat, baked meat, and roast, | |
| And hath therefore no wit of charge nor travail. | |
| And when she list, the liquor of the grape | |
| Doth glad her heart till that her belly swell.’ | 30 |
| And at this journey makes she but a jape, | |
| So forth she goes, trusting of all this wealth | |
| With her Sister her part so for to shape, | |
| That if she might there keep herself in health, | |
| To live a lady, while her life do last. | 35 |
| And to the door now is she come by stealth; | |
| And with her foot anon she scrapes full fast. | |
| Th’ other for fear durst not well scarce appear; | |
| Of every noise so was the wretch aghast. | |
| At last she asked softly who was there; | 40 |
| And in her language as well as she could, | |
| ‘Peep,’ quod the other, ‘Sister, I am here.’ | |
| ‘Peace,’ quod the town-mouse, ‘why speakest thou so loud?’ | |
| And by the hand she took her fair and well. | |
| ‘Welcome,’ quod she, ‘my Sister, by the rood.’ | 45 |
| She feasted her, that joy it was to tell | |
| The fare they had, they drank the wine so clear; | |
| And as to purpose now and then it fell, | |
| So cheered her with, ‘How, Sister, what cheer?’ | |
| Amid this joy befell a sorry chance, | 50 |
| That wellaway, the stranger bought full dear | |
| The fare she had. For as she look’d askance, | |
| Under a stool she spied two steaming eyes | |
| In a round head, with sharp ears. In France | |
| Was never mouse so fear’d, for the unwise | 55 |
| Had not yseen such a beast before. | |
| Yet had nature taught her after her guise | |
| To know her foe, and dread him evermore. | |
| The town mouse fled, she knew whither to go; | |
| The other had no shift, but wonders sore; | 60 |
| Fear’d of her life, at home she wished her tho, | |
| And to the door, alas, as she did skip, | |
| The heaven it would, lo, and eke her chance was so | |
| At the threshold her sely foot did trip; | |
| And ere she might recover it again, | 65 |
| The traitor cat had caught her by the hip, | |
| And made her there against her will remain, | |
| That had forgot her power, surety, and rest, | |
| For seeking wealth, wherein she thought to reign. | |
| Alas, my Poins, how men do seek the best, | 70 |
| And find the worst, by error as they stray; | |
| And no marvel, when sight is so opprest, | |
| And blinds the guide, anon out of the way | |
| Goeth guide and all in seeking quiet life. | |
| O wretched minds, there is no gold that may | 75 |
| Grant that you seek, no war, no peace, no strife: | |
| No, no, although thy head were hoop’d with gold, | |
| Serjeant with mace, with halbert, sword, nor knife, | |
| Cannot repulse the care that follow should. | |
| Each kind of life hath with him his disease: | 80 |
| Live in delights even as thy lust would, | |
| And thou shalt find, when lust doth most thee please, | |
| It irketh straight, and by itself doth fade. | |
| A small thing is it that may thy mind appease? | |
| None of you all there is, that is so mad, | 85 |
| To seek for grapes on brambles or on briers: | |
| Nor none I trow, that hath a wit so bad, | |
| To set his hay for coneys over rivers; | |
| Nor ye set not a drag-net for a hare. | |
| And yet the thing, that most is your desire, | 90 |
| You do mis-seek with more travail and care. | |
| Make plain thine heart, that it be not knotted | |
| With hope or dread, and see thy will be bare | |
| From all affects, whom vice hath never spotted. | |
| Thyself content with that is thee assigned, | 95 |
| And use it well that is to thee allotted; | |
| Then seek no more out of thyself to find | |
| The thing that thou hast sought so long before: | |
| For thou shalt feel it sticking in thy mind. | |
| Made, if ye list to continue your sore, | 100 |
| Let present pass, and gape on time to come, | |
| And deep thyself in travail more and more. | |
| Henceforth, my Poins, this shall be all and sum; | |
| These wretched fools shall have nought else of me; | |
| But, to the great God, and to his doom, | 105 |
| None other pain pray I for them to be; | |
| But when the rage doth lead them from the right, | |
| That looking backward Virtue they may see, | |
| Even as she is, so goodly fair and bright: | |
| And whilst they clasp their lusts in arms across, | 110 |
| Grant them, good Lord, as thou mayst of thy might, | |
| To fret inward, for losing such a loss. | |
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