« ZurückWeiter »
Good husbandry lusteth
Himself for to stir,
Ill husbandry eateth
Himself out of door : Good husbandry meateth
His friend and the poor.
Ill husbandry dayeth,
Or letteth it lie :
Good husbandry payeth,
The cheaper to buy.
Ill husbandry lurketh,
And stealeth a sleep : Good husbandry worketh
His household to keep. Ill husbandry liveth
By that and by this : Good husbandry giveth
To every man his. Ill husbandry taketh,
And spendeth up all: Good husbandry maketh
Good shift with a small. Ill husbandry prayeth
His wife to make shift: Good husbandry sayeth
"Take this of my gift.” Ill husbandry drowseth
At fortune so awk : Good husbandry rouseth
Himself as a hawk. Ill husbandry lieth
In prison for debt : Good husbandry spieth
Where profit to get. Ill husbandry ways hath
To fraud what he can ;
Good husbandry praise hath
Of every man.
Ill husbandry never
Hath wealth to keep touch: Good husbandry ever
Hath penny in pouch,
Good husband his boon
Or request hath afar :
Ill husband as soon
Hath a toad with an R.1
[Was a gentleman of the King's Chapel towards 1550. Wrote a Book of Nurture (whence our extract), and a Song of the Child-Bishop.]
He that spendeth much,
And getteth nought ;
He that oweth much,
And hath nought;
He that looketh in his purse
And findeth nought, -
He may be sorry,
And say nought.
He that may and will not,
He then that would shall not.
He that would and cannot
May repent and sigh not.
He that sweareth
Till no man trust him ;
He that lieth
Till no man believe him ;
He that borroweth
Till no man will lend him,-
Let him go where
No man knoweth him.
He that hath a good master,
And cannot keep him ;
He that hath a good servant,
And not content with him ;
He that hath such conditions
That no man loveth him,-
May well know other,
But few men will know him.
1 One of the editors of Tusser understands this expression to amount to much the same as “getting more kicks than halfpence." He quotes from Brockett the proverb, "Over-many masters, as the toad said when under the harrow."
EDMUND SPENSER. [Born in London, 1553 ; died in Westminster, 16 January 1599. The Prosopopoia is an early poem, published in 1591, and then spoken of by the author as a long sithens composed in the raw conceit of my youth." It is evidently in large measure a satire: the Lord Treasurer Burleigh is regarded as the main object of attack.]
PROSOPOPOIA: OR, MOTHER HUBBARD'S TALE.
It was the month in which the righteous maid
That, for disdain of sinful world's upbraid,
Fled back to heaven whence she was first conceived,
Into her silver bower the Sun received ;
And the hot Syrian dog on him awaiting,
After the chafèd lion's cruel baiting,
Corrupted had the air with his noisome breath,
And poured on the earth plague, pestilence, and death.
Amongst the rest, a wicked malady
Reigned amongst men, that many did to die,
Deprived of sense and ordinary reason,
That it to leeches seemed strange and geason.
My fortune was, 'mongst many others moe,
To be partaker of their common woe,
And my weak body, set on fire with grief,
Was robbed of rest and natural relief.
In this ill plight there came to visit me
Some friends, who, sorry my sad case to see,
Began to comfort me in cheerful wise,
And means of gladsome solace to devise.
But, seeing kindly Sleep refuse to do
His office, and my feeble eyes forego,
They sought my troubled sense how to deceive
With talk, that might unquiet fancies reave;
And, sitting all on seats about me round,
With pleasant tales, fit for that idle stound,
They cast in course to waste the weary hours.
Some told of ladies and their paramours:
Some of brave knights and their renowned squires;
Some of the fairies and their strange attires;
And some of giants hard to be believed;
That the delight thereof me much relieved.
Amongst the rest a good old woman was,
Hight Mother Hubbard, who did far surpass
The rest in honest mirth, that 'seemed her well.
She, when her turn was come her tale to tell,
Told of a strange adventure that betided
Betwixt the Fox and the Ape, by him misguided;
The which, for that my sense it greatly pleased,
All were my spirit heavy and dis-eased,
I'll write in terms as she the same did say,
So well as I her words remember may.
No Muse's aid me needs hereto to call ;
Base is the style, and matter mean withal.
“Whilom” (said she) “ before the world was civil,
The Fox and the Ape, disliking of their evil
And hard estate, determịned to seek
Their fortunes far abroad, like with his like;
For both were crafty and unhappy-witted;
Two fellows might nowhere be better fitted.
“The Fox, that first this cause of grief did find, 'Gan first thus plain his case with words unkind. 'Neighbour Ape, and my gossip eke beside, (Both two sure bands in friendship to be tied) To whom may I more trustily complain The evil plight that doth me sore constrain, And hope thereof to find due remedy? Hear then my pain and inward aguny. Thus many years I now have spent and worn In mean regard and basest fortune's scorn, Doing my country service as I might No less, Í dare say, than the proudest wight; And still I hoped to be up advanced For my good parts, but still it hath mischanced. Now therefore that no longer hope I see, But froward fortune still to follow me, And losels lifted high where I did look, I mean to turn the next leaf of the book; Yet, ere that any way I do betake, I mean my gossip privy first to make.'
“Ah! my dear gossip,' (answered then the Ape)
'Deeply do your sad words my wits awhape,
Both for because your grief doth great appear,
And eke because myself am touched near;
For I likewise have wasted much good time,
Still waiting to preferment up to climb,
Whilst others always have before me stepped,
And from my beard the fat away have swept,
That now unto despair I ’gin to grow,
And mean for better wind about to throw;
Therefore, to me, my trusty friend, aread
Thy counsel : two is better than one head.'
có. Certes' (said he) 'I mean me to disguise
In some strange habit, after uncouth wise,
Or like a pilgrim or a limiter,
Or like a gipsy or a juggeler,
And so to wander to the worlde's end,
To seek my fortune where I may it mend, -
For worse than that I have I cannot meet.
Wide is the world, I wot, and every street
Is full of fortunes and adventures strange,
Continually subject unto change.