RICH MAN

¶ What is the meaning (my child) I the pray This question to be mand of me? For that thing to so, I am glad alway Which should not be grievous to the. ¶ I see nothing truly my Son so meet And to prove so profitable for the As unto the School to move thy feet, With studious Lads, there for to be. ¶ Why can not I thee thus much persuade For that in my mind is the best trade. ¶ What though it be painful, what thought it be greaves, For so be all things at the First learning, Yet marvelous pleasure it bringeth unto us As a reward for such pains taking. Wherefore come of and be of good cheer And go to thy Book without any fear For a man without knowledge (as I have read) May well be compared to one that is dead. ¶ Why than to me thy fancy express That the School matters to the are counted werynesse ¶ What trial thereof hast thou taken That the Scole of thee is so ill bespoken? ¶ I dare well say that there is no misery But rather Joy, pastime, and pleasure Always with Scholars hapynge company, No life to this, I the wall assure. ¶ Is there not (say they) for them in this case, Given other while for pardon some place? ¶ But I am sure that this kind of fashion Is not showed to children of honest condition. ¶ Son in this point, thou art quite deceived And without doubt falsely persuaded For it is not to be judged that any Scholemayster, Is of so great fiersenes and cruelty And of young Infants so soar a tormenter That the breath should be about to leave the body. ¶ Peradventure the Child of some disease did labour Which was the cause of his Sepulture. ¶ If that with no such thing he were infected What was the cause that he departed. ¶ Thus to think Son, thou art beguiled verily, And I would wish the to suppose the contrary. And not for such tales my counsel to forsake Which only do covet thee learned to make. ¶ Yet by thy father's will and intercession, Thou shalt be content that thing to pardon. ¶ Woe is me my Son, woe is me, This heavy and doleful day to see. ¶ Where I might see the torn and rend? Oh Lord I could not such a deed invent. ¶ What trade then (I pray the) shall I devise Whereof thy living at length may arise? Wilt thou follow Warfare, and a Soldier be pointed, And so among Trojans and Romans be numbered, ¶ Somewhat to do, it is meet and conveniet, Wilt thou then gyve thy diligent endenoure To let thy youth unhonestly be spent And do as poor knaves, which Iares do scour? For I do not see that any good Art Or else any honest Science, or occupation Thou Wilt be content to have a part After thy father's mind and exhortation. ¶ I would not have the driven to that succour, Yet for because the Scriptures declare, That he should not ear, which will not labour Some work to do it must be thy ear. ¶ That this thine intent may take good success I pray God heartily of his goodness. ¶ Therewith I am Son very well contented. ¶ In deed peradventure it may so chance. ¶ If it be joust and lawful, which thou dost require, Now therefore ask, what is thy petition? ¶ Good Lord, good Lord, what do I here? ¶ It is my child, what means thy doting? Why dost thou covet thy own un doing? ¶ Why fooly she I deot, thou goest about a wife Which is a burden and yoke all thy life. ¶ Son it shall not be thus by my counsel. ¶ If thou were as wise, as I have judged the Thou wouldst in this case be ruled by me. ¶ What I say, about thine own destruction? ¶ Well if thou Wilt not my Son, be ruled But needs will follow thine own foolysshenes, Take heed hereafter if thou be troubled At me thou never seek redress. For I am certain thou canst not abide Any pain at all, grief, or vexation. Thy Chyldhood with me so easily did slide Full of all pastime and delectation. And if thou wouldst follow the Book and learning, And with thy self also, take a wise way: Then thou mayest get a gentleman's lining And with many other bear a great sway. Besides this I would in time to come After my power, and small havylytie, Help the and further the, as my wisdom, Should me most counsel for thy Commodities. And such a wife I would prepare for the As should be virtuous, wise and honest, And gyve the with her after my degree, Whereby thou mightest always live in test. ¶ I perceive therefore. I have done to well And showed over much favour to the, That now against me thou dost rebel And for thine own furtherance Wilt not agree. Wherefore of my goods thou gettest not a penny Nor any succour else at my hands For such a child is most unworthy To have any part of his father's lands. ¶ Well, if it shall chance the thy folly to repent As thou art like within short space, Think none but thy self worthy to be shent, Letting my council to take no place. ¶ Farewell my Son, depart in Gods name. Now at the last I do my self consider How great grief it is and heaviness, To every man, that is a Father. To suffer his child to follow wantonness, If I might live a hundred years longer And should have sons and daughters many Yet for this Boys sake, I will not suffer, One of them all at home with me to tarry, They should not be kept thus under my Wing And have all that which they desire, For why it is but their only undoing And after the Proverb, we put oil to the fire. Wherefore we Parents must have a regard, Our Children in time for to subdue Or else we shall have them ever untoward, Yea, spiteful, disdainful, nought, and untrue. And let us them chruste alway to the School Whereby at their Books they may be kept under: And so we shall shortly their courage cool, And bring them to honesty, virtue and Nurture. But alas now a days (the more is the pity) Science and learning is so little regarded, That none of us all does muse or study To see our children well taught and instructed. We deck them, we trim them with gorgeous array We pampre and fede them, and keep them so gay That in the end of all this, they be out foes. We base them, kiss them, we look round about We merualle and wonder to see them so leave We ever anon do invent and seek out, To make them go tricksy, gallant, and clean. Which is nothing else, but the very provoking To all vnthriftynes, vice, and Iniquity, It pucteth them up, it is and allutynge Their father's and mother's at length to defy. Which thing mine own Son does plainly declare Whom I always entirely have loved, He was so my Joy, he was so my care That now of the same I am despised. And now he is hence from me departed, He hath no delight with me to dwell, He is not merry until he be married, He hath of knauetye took such a smell. But yet sing that he is my Son, He does me constrain ytterly to weep, I am not (me think) well, till I be gone For this place I can no le her keep. ¶ Those words my Son, I have almost forgotten, Stand up therefore, and kneel no longer: And what it was I spoke so often, At two or there words, recite to thy Father. ¶ Haste thou by proof soon, this thing tried? ¶ For so much as by my advise and counsel In no manner wise thou wouldst be ruled: Therefore to the I can not do well, But let the Still suffer, as thou haste deserved For that thou hast suffered, is yet nothing To that tribulation which is behind continued ̄ ming. ¶ What should I do I can not tell, For now that thou hast taken a wife With me thy father thou mayest not dwell, But always with her spend thy life. Thou mayest not again thy wife forsake, Which during life to the thou didst take. ¶ If that thou thinkest thy self alone Only to lead this irksome life. Thou mayest learn what grief, sorrow and moan, Socrates had with Xantippa his wife. Her Husband full oft she taunted and checked And as the Book Say unhonestly mocked. ¶ I can not my Son thy state redress, Me thy Father thou didst refuse: Wherefore now help thy own fooly shenes, And of thy wife no longer muse. ¶ If that at the First thou wouldst have be ordered. And done as thy Father counseled the: So wretched a life had never chanced Whereof at this present thou complainest to me. But yet come on, to my house we will be going And there thou shalt see, what I will gyve: A little to help thy needy living: Since that in such penury thou dost live, And that once done, thou must hence again For I am not he, that will the retain. LOmmynae this day forth of my Chamber, Even as for water to wash I did call, By chance I espied a certain stranger, Standing beneath within my Hall. Who in very deed came from the Inholder Whereas for a time my Son did lie, And said that his master had sent me a letter And bade him to bring it with all speed possibly. Wherein he did write that as this day That vnthr from my Son to a certain Maid, Should then be wedded, without further delay, And both borrowed more than will be paid. And since that he harden, he was my Son, By a Gentleman or two, this other day: He thought that it should be very well done, To let me have knowledge thereof by the way. And willed me if that I would any thing Of him to be done of me in this matter: That then he his Servant such word should bring As at his coming he might do hereafter. I bade him thank his Master most hattelye And sent him, by him a piece of Venison: For that he vouchsafed to write so gently, Touching the marrying and state of my Son, But notwithstanding I sent him no Money, To pay such Debts as my Son did owe, Because he had me forsaken utterly, And me for his good Father would not know, And said that with him I would not make, From that day forward, burynge my life But as he had brewed, that so be should bake, Since of l is own choosing, he got him a wife. Thus wha his Servant from the departed Into my Chamber I went again, And there a great while I pitterly weeped, This ewes to me was so great pain: And thus with these words I began to moan, Lamenting and mourning my self all a lone. Oh wadnes, Oh doting of those young folk Oh my es without wit, advise, and discretion, With whom their par ntes can bear no stroke In that see first Matrimonial conjunction They know not what misery grief and unquietness Will hereafter ensue, of their extreme foolysshenes, Of all such labours, they be clean ignorant, Which in the nourishing and keeping of Children their great charges, it is convenient Either of them henceforth to sustain: Concerning expenses bestowed in a House They per eyue as little as does the Mouse. On the one side, the wife will brall and scold, On the other side the Infant will cry in the Cradle: Anon when the Child wareth somewhat old, For meat and drink, he begynnes to babbell. Hereupon comes it, that at markets and fairs A Husband is forced to buy many wares. Yet for all this hath my foolish Son As wise a Wodcocke, without any wit, Despising his Father's mind and opinion, Married a wife for him most vnfyete, Supposing that mirth to be eueciastynge, Which then at the First was greatly pleasing. How they two will live, I can not tell, Whereto they may trust, they have nothing My mind yueth me, that they will come dwell, At length by their father for want of livings, But my Son doubtless, for any thing that I know Shall reap in such wise as he did sow, True he shall find, that Hippon rtes did write Who said with a wife are two days of pleasure The first is the joy of the Marriage day and night The second to be at the wife's Sepulture: And this by experience he shall prove true, That of his Brydale great euyiles do ensue. And (as I suppose,) it will prove in his l fe, When he shall wish that to him it may chance, Which unto Eupolis and also his wife, The night they were wedded, fell for a vengeance Who with the heavy thine of the Gedde were S ayne, As the Poet Ovid in these two Verses makes plain, ¶ Si tibi coniugii nox prima, novissima vite, Eupolis, hoc periit, & novam nupta modo. Ovidius writing against one Ibis his enemy That the First night of his Marriage did wish The last of his life might be certainly. For so (quod he) did Eupolis and his wife perish. Yet to my Soon I pray God to send Because thereunto me Nature does bind: Though he hath offended, a better end, Then Eupolis and his wife did find. And now I shall long ever anon, Till some of those quarters come Riding hither, Unto the which my Son is gone, To know how they do live together. But I am fasting, and it is almost noon And more than time that I had dined: Wherefore from hence I will go soon, I think by this time, my meat is burned. ¶ Say what thou list, for I can not invent A way more continued ̄ modyous in my Judgement. ¶ What my Child, displeasing I pray the? That makes a man live so happily. ¶ Ah mine own child, with the what there?