• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

The midwife eke with tender grip that held him in her lap;

And then did he complain on Venus' cruel son,

Who led him first unto the rocks which he should warely shun:

By means whereof he lost both life and liberty,

And died a hundred times a day, and yet could never die.

Love's troubles lasten long, the joys he gives are short;

He forceth not a lover's pain, their earnest is his sport.

A thousand things and more I here let pass to write,

Which unto Love this woeful man did speak in great despite.

On Fortune eke he railed, he called her deaf and blind,

Unconstant, fond, deceitful, rash, unruthful, and unkind.

And to himself he laid a great part of the fault,

For that he slew and was not slain, in fighting with Tybalt.

He blamed all the world, and all he did defy,

But Juliet for whom he lived, for whom eke would he die.

When after raging fits appeaséd was his rage,

And when his passions, poured forth, 'gan partly to assuage,

So wisely did the friar unto his tale reply,

That he straight cared for his life, that erst had care to die.

"Art thou," quoth he, "a man? Thy shape saith, so thou art;

Thy crying, and thy weeping eyes denote a woman's heart.

For manly reason is quite from off thy mind outchased,

And in her stead affections lewd and fancies highly placed:

So that I stood in doubt, this hour, at the least,

If thou a man or woman wert, or else a brutish beast.

A wise man in the midst of troubles and distress

Still stands not wailing present harm, but seeks his harm's redress.

As when the winter flaws with dreadful noise arise,

And heave the foamy swelling waves up to the starry skies,

So that the bruiséd bark in cruel seas betost,

Despaireth of the happy haven, in danger to be lost,

The pilot bold at helm, cries, 'Mates, strike now your sail,'

And turns her stem into the waves that strongly her assail;

Then driven hard upon the bare and wrackful shore,

In greater danger to be wracked than he had been before,

He seeth his ship full right against the rock to run,

But yet he doth what lieth in him the perilous rock to shun:

Sometimes the beaten boat, by cunning government,

The anchors lost, the cables broke, and all the tackle spent,

The rudder smitten off, and overboard the mast,

Doth win the long desiréd port, the stormy danger past:

But if the master dread, and overpressed with woe

Begin to wring his hands, and lets the guiding rudder go,

The ship rents on the rock, or sinketh in the deep,

And eke the coward drenchéd is: So, if thou still beweep

And seek not how to help the changes that do chance,

Thy cause of sorrow shall increase, thou cause of thy mischance.

Other account thee wise, prove not thyself a fool;

Now put in practice lessons learned of old in wisdom's school.

The wise man saith, 'Beware thou double not thy pain,

For one perhaps thou may'st abide, but hardly suffer twain.'

As well we ought to seek things hurtful to decrease,

As to endeavour helping things by study to increase.

The praise of true freedom in wisdom's bondage lies,

He winneth blame whose deeds be fond, although his words be wise.

Sickness the body's gaol, grief gaol is of the mind,

If thou canst 'scape from heavy grief, true freedom shalt thou find.

Fortune can fill nothing so full of hearty grief,

But in the same a constant mind finds solace and relief.

Virtue is always thrall to troubles and annoy,

But wisdom in adversity finds cause of quiet joy.

And they most wretched are that know no wretchedness,

And after great extremity mishaps aye waxen less.

Like as there is no weal but wastes away sometime,

So every kind of wailéd woe will wear away in time.

If thou wilt master quite the troubles that thee spill,

Endeavour first by reason's help to master witless will.

A sundry med'cine hath each sundry faint disease,

But patience, a common salve, to every wound gives ease.

The world is alway full of chances and of change,

Wherefore the change of chance must not seem to a wise man strange.

For tickel Fortune doth, in changing, but