Mirror for Magistrates, Volume 2, Part 1

Great Britain -- History -- Poetry; Shakespeare, William, 1564-1616 -- Sources

The rowling stone that tumbleth downe the hill,
        Fynds none to stay the furie of his fall:
        Once under foote for euer daunted still:
        One cruell blowe strikes cleane away the ball:
        Left once in lacke feeles alwayes want of will:
        A conquerd mind must yeeld to every ill,
          A weake poore soule, that fortune doth forsake
          In hard extreames, from world her leave may take.

    54.*

        From those that fall, such as doe rise doe run:
        The sound with sicke doe seldome long abide:
        Poore people passe as shadowes in the sun,
        Like feeble fish, that needes must follow tyde:
        Among the rich a beggar soone is spied:
          When weake _Shore’s_ wife had lost her staffe of stay,
          The halt and blind went limping lame away.

    55.*

        The poore is pincht and pointed at indeed,
        As baited bull were leading to a stake:
        Wealth findes great helpe, want gets no friend at neede,
        A plaged wight a booteles mone may make,
        A naked soule in street for colde may quake:
          But colde or hot, when mischiefes comes a roe,
          As falles the lot, the back beares of the bloe.

    56.*

        Prefarment past, the world will soon forget:
        The present time is daily gaz’d upon:
        Yf merchant rich from wealth doe fall in debt,
        Small count is made of his good fortune gon:
        We feede on flesh, and fling away the bone,
          Embrace the best and set the worst aside,
          Because faire flowers are made of in their pride.

    57.*

        You yonglings nowe, that vaine delights lead on
        To sell chaste life for lewd and light desires,
        Poore gaine is got when rich good name is gon:
        Foule blot and shame lives under trimme attires:
        Worlde soone casts off the hackney horse it hiers:
          And when bare nagge is ridden out of breath,
          Tibbe is turn’d loose to feed on barren heath.

    58.*

        Of flowers a while men doe gay poses make:
        The sent once past, adue dry withered leaves:
        Love lasts not long, prickt up for pleasure’s sake:
        Straw little worth, when corne forsaks the sheaves:
        A painted post the gazar’s eye deceives:
          But when foule fauts are found that blear’d the sight,
          The account is gone of girlls or gugawes light.

    59.*

        Young pooppies play, small season lasts you see:
        Old appish sportes are quickly out of grace:
        Fond wanton games will soone forgotten be:
        As sowre as crabbe becomes the sweetest face:
        There needes no more be spoken of this case:
          All earthly joyes by tract of time decayes:
          Soone is the glase runne out of our good dayes!

    60.*

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

Opening the text

History

Mirror for Magistrates, Volume 2, Part 1

Great Britain -- History -- Poetry; Shakespeare, William, 1564-1616 -- Sources

The rowling stone that tumbleth downe the hill,
        Fynds none to stay the furie of his fall:
        Once under foote for euer daunted still:
        One cruell blowe strikes cleane away the ball:
        Left once in lacke feeles alwayes want of will:
        A conquerd mind must yeeld to every ill,
          A weake poore soule, that fortune doth forsake
          In hard extreames, from world her leave may take.

    54.*

        From those that fall, such as doe rise doe run:
        The sound with sicke doe seldome long abide:
        Poore people passe as shadowes in the sun,
        Like feeble fish, that needes must follow tyde:
        Among the rich a beggar soone is spied:
          When weake _Shore’s_ wife had lost her staffe of stay,
          The halt and blind went limping lame away.

    55.*

        The poore is pincht and pointed at indeed,
        As baited bull were leading to a stake:
        Wealth findes great helpe, want gets no friend at neede,
        A plaged wight a booteles mone may make,
        A naked soule in street for colde may quake:
          But colde or hot, when mischiefes comes a roe,
          As falles the lot, the back beares of the bloe.

    56.*

        Prefarment past, the world will soon forget:
        The present time is daily gaz’d upon:
        Yf merchant rich from wealth doe fall in debt,
        Small count is made of his good fortune gon:
        We feede on flesh, and fling away the bone,
          Embrace the best and set the worst aside,
          Because faire flowers are made of in their pride.

    57.*

        You yonglings nowe, that vaine delights lead on
        To sell chaste life for lewd and light desires,
        Poore gaine is got when rich good name is gon:
        Foule blot and shame lives under trimme attires:
        Worlde soone casts off the hackney horse it hiers:
          And when bare nagge is ridden out of breath,
          Tibbe is turn’d loose to feed on barren heath.

    58.*

        Of flowers a while men doe gay poses make:
        The sent once past, adue dry withered leaves:
        Love lasts not long, prickt up for pleasure’s sake:
        Straw little worth, when corne forsaks the sheaves:
        A painted post the gazar’s eye deceives:
          But when foule fauts are found that blear’d the sight,
          The account is gone of girlls or gugawes light.

    59.*

        Young pooppies play, small season lasts you see:
        Old appish sportes are quickly out of grace:
        Fond wanton games will soone forgotten be:
        As sowre as crabbe becomes the sweetest face:
        There needes no more be spoken of this case:
          All earthly joyes by tract of time decayes:
          Soone is the glase runne out of our good dayes!

    60.*

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

Mirror for Magistrates, Volume 2, Part 1

Mirror for Magistrates, Volume 2, Part 1

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