1086. UPON CHUB.
When Chub brings in his harvest, still he cries,
"Aha, my boys! here's meat for Christmas pies!"
Soon after he for beer so scores his wheat,
That at the tide he has not bread to eat.
1087. PLEASURES PERNICIOUS.
Where pleasures rule a kingdom, never there
Is sober virtue seen to move her sphere.
1088. ON HIMSELF.
A wearied pilgrim, I have wandered here
Twice five-and-twenty, bate me but one year;
Long I have lasted in this world, 'tis true,
But yet those years that I have lived, but few.
Who by his grey hairs doth his lusters tell,
Lives not those years, but he that lives them well.
One man has reach'd his sixty years, but he
Of all those threescore, has not liv'd half three.
He lives, who lives to virtue; men who cast
Their ends for pleasure, do not live, but last.
Luster, five years.
1089. TO M. LAURENCE SWETNAHAM.
Read thou my lines, my Swetnaham; if there be
A fault, 'tis hid if it be voic'd by thee.
Thy mouth will make the sourest numbers please:
How will it drop pure honey speaking these!