For whoso doth, when all is sought,
Shall find that thought availeth nought;
Be merry, friends!
All such as have all wealth at will,
Their wills at will for to fulfil,
From grief or grudge or any ill
I need not sing this them until,
Be merry, friends!
But unto such as wish and want
Of worldly wealth wrought them so scant, That wealth by work they cannot plant, To them I sing at this instant,
And such as when the rest seem next,
Then they be straight extremely vexed;
And such as be in storms perplexed,
To them I sing this short sweet text,
friends!
To laugh and win each man agrees,
But each man cannot laugh and lose,
Yet laughing in the last of those
Hath been allowed of sage decrees;
Be merry, friends!
Be merry with sorrow, wise men have said,
Which saying, being wisely weighed,
It seems a lesson truly laid
For those whom sorrows still invade,
Be merry, friends!
Make ye not two sorrows of one,
For of one grief grafted alone
To graft a sorrow thereupon,
A sourer crab we can graft none;
Be merry, friends!
Taking our sorrows sorrowfully,
Sorrow augmenteth our malady;
Taking our sorrows merrily,
Mirth salveth sorrows most soundly;
Be merry, friends!
Of griefs to come standing in fray,
Provide defence the best we may;
Which done, no more to do or say,
Come what come shall, come care away!
Be merry, friends!
In such things as we cannot flee,
But needs they must endurèd be,
Let wise contentment be decree
Make virtue of necessity;
Be merry, friends!
To lack or lose that we would win,
So that our fault be not therein,
What woe or want, end or begin,
Take never sorrow but for sin!
Be merry, friends!
In loss of friends, in lack of health,
In loss of goods, in lack of wealth,
Where liberty restraint expelleth,
Where all these lack, yet as this telleth,
Be merry, friends!*
Man hardly hath a richer thing
Than honest mirth, the which well-spring
Watereth the roots of rejoicing,
Feeding the flowers of flourishing;
Be merry, friends!t
* In the Roxburghe copy this verse is thus modernized :
If friends be lost, then get thee more;
If wealth be lost, thou still hast store-
The merry man is never poor,
He lives upon the world; therefore,
Be merry, friends!
This verse is omitted in the Roxburghe copy.
[The loss of wealth is loss of dirt,
As sages in all times assert;
The happy man's without a shirt,
And never comes to maim or hurt.
Be merry, friends!
All seasons are to him the spring,
In flowers bright and flourishing;
With birds upon the tree or wing,
Who in their fashion always sing
Be merry, friends!
If that thy doublet has a hole in,
Why, it cannot keep the less thy soul in,
Which rangeth forth beyond controlling
Whilst thou hast nought to do but trolling
Be merry, friends !]
Be merry in God, saint Paul saith plain,
And yet, saith he, be merry again;
Since whose advice is not in vain,
The fact thereof to entertain,
[Let the world slide, let the world go:
A fig for care, and a fig for woe!
If I can't pay, why I can owe,
And death makes equal the high and low.
Be merry, friends!]
HAT heart can think, or tongue express,
The harm that groweth of idleness?
This idleness in some of us
Is seen to seem a thing but slight;
But if that sum the sums discuss,
The total sum doth show us straight
This idleness to weigh such weight
That it no tongue can well express,
The harm that groweth of idleness.
This vice I liken to a weed
That husband-men have named tyne,
The which in corn doth root or breed;
The grain to ground it doth incline
It never ripeth, but rotteth in fine;
And even a like thing is to guess
Against all virtue, idleness.
The proud man may be patient,
The ireful may be liberal,
The gluttonous may be continent,
The covetous may give alms all,
The lecher may to prayer* fall;
Each vice bideth some good business,
Save only idle idleness.
As some one virtue may by grace
Suppress of vices many a one,
So is one vice once taken place
Destroyeth all virtues every one;
Where this vice cometh, all virtues are gone,
In no kind of good business
Can company with idleness.
An ill wind that bloweth no man good,
The blower of which blast is she;
The lyther+ lusts bred of her brood
Can no way breed good property;
Wherefore I say, as we now see,
No heart can think, or tongue express,
The harm that groweth of idleness!
To cleanse the corn, as men at need
Weed out all weeds, and tyne for chief,
Let diligence our weed-hook weed
All vice from us for like relief;
As faith may faithfully shew proof
By faithful fruitful business,
To weed out fruitless idleness.
* This word was constantly used as a dissyllable.
WELCOME IS THE BEST DISH.
YE be welcome, ye be welcome,
Ye be welcome one by one;
Ye be heartily welcome,
Ye be heartily welcome every one!
When friends like friends do friendly show
Unto each other high and low,
What cheer increase of love doth grow,
What better cheer than they to know!
This is welcome!
To bread or drink, to flesh or fish,
Yet welcome is the best dish!
In all our fare, in all our cheer
Of dainty meats sought far or near,
Most fine, most costly to appear,
What for all this, if all this gear
Lack this welcome?
This cheer, lo! is not worth one rush,
For welcome is the best dish!
Where welcome is, though fare be small,
Yet honest hearts be pleased withal;
When welcome want, though great fare fall,
No honest heart content it shall
Without welcome;
For honest hearts do ever wish
To have welcome to the best dish.
Some with small fare they be not pleased; Some with much fare be much diseased; Some with mean fare be scant appeased; But of all somes none is displeased
Then all good cheer to accomplish,
Welcome must be the best dish.
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