Название: Selected Works
Автор: George Herbert
Издательство: Ingram
Жанр: Зарубежные стихи
isbn: 9781420971606
isbn:
Get a sharp wife, a servant that will lowre.
A stumbler stumbles least in rugged way.
Command thyself in chief. He life’s warre knows,
Whom all his passions follow, as he goes.
Catch not at quarrels. He that dares not speak
Plainly and home, is coward of the two.
Think not thy fame at ev’ry twitch will break:
By great deeds shew, that thou canst little do;
And do them not: that shall thy wisdome be;
And change thy temperance into braverie.
If that thy fame with ev’ry toy be pos’d,
’Tis a thinne web, which poysonous fancies make;
But the great souldiers honour was compos’d
Of thicker stuffe, which would endure a shake.
Wisdome picks friends; civilitie playes the rest.
A toy shunn’d cleanly passeth with the best.
Laugh not too much: the wittie man laughs least:
For wit is newes only to ignorance.
Lesse at thine own things laugh; lest in the jest
Thy person share, and the conceit advance.
Make not thy sport, abuses: for the fly,
That feeds on dung, is coloured thereby.
Pick out of mirth, like stones out of thy ground,
Profanenesse, fiithinesse, abusivenesse.
These are the scumme, with which course wits abound
The fine may spare these well, yet not go lesse.
All things are bigge with jest: nothing that’s plain
But may be wittie, if thou hast the vein.
Wit’s an unruly engine, wildly striking
Sometimes a friend, sometimes the engineer:
Hast thou the knack? pamper it not with liking:
But if thou want it, buy it not too deere.
Many affecting wit beyond their power,
Have got to be a deare fool for an houre.
A sad wise valour is the brave complexion,
That leads the van, and swallows up the cities.
The gigler is a milk-maid, whom infection,
Or a fir’d beacon frighteth from his ditties.
Then he’s the sport: the mirth then in him rests,
And the sad man is cock of all his jests.
Towards great persons use respective boldnesse:
That temper gives them theirs, and yet doth take
Nothing from thine: in service, care, or coldnesse
Doth ratably thy fortunes marre or make.
Feed no man in his sinnes: for adulation
Doth make thee parcell-devil in damnation.
Envie not greatnesse: for thou mak’st thereby
Thyself the worse, and so the distance greater.
Be not thine own worm: yet such jealousie,
As hurts not others, but may make thee better.
Is a good spurre. Correct thy passion’s spite;
Then may the beasts draw thee to happy light.
When basenesse is exalted, do not bate
The place its honour, for the person’s sake.
The shrine is that which thou dost venerate;
And not the beast, that bears it on his back.
I care not though the cloth of state should be
Not of rich arras, but mean tapestrie.
Thy friend put in thy bosome: wear his eies
Still in thy heart, that he may see what’s there.
If cause require, thou art his sacrifice;
Thy drops of bloud must pay down all his fear;
But love is lost; the way of friendship’s gone;
Though David had his Jonathan, Christ his John.
Yet be not surety, if thou be a father.
Love is a personall debt. I cannot give
My children’s right, nor ought be take it; rather
Both friends should die, than hinder them to live.
Fathers first enter bonds to nature’s ends;
And are her sureties, ere they are a friend’s.
If thou be single, all thy goods and ground
Submit to love; but yet not more then all.
Give one estate, as one life. None is bound
To work for two, who brought himself to thrall.
God made me one man; love makes me no more,
Till labour come, and make my weaknesse score.
In thy discourse, if thou desire to please:
All such is courteous, usefull, new, or wittie:
Usefulnesse comes by labour, wit by ease;
Courtesie grows in court; news in the citie.
Get a good stock of these, then draw the card;
That suites him best, of whom thy speech is heard.
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