I seek about this world unstable to find one faithful moral fable, but I cannot for all my wit so true one maxim find of it but say, it is deceivable. For yesterday I did declare how that the season soft and fair came in as fresh as peacock feather. This day it stings me like an adder. Things conclude me @3au contraire.@1 Yesterday fair upsprang the flowers, this day they are all slain with shears; and fowls in forests that sang clear now wake up with a dreary cheer. Full cold are both their beds and bowers. Next after summer, winter lean, next after comfort, care keen; next to dark midnight, mirthful morrow; next after joy come sorrow. So is this world and ever has been. |