In momentaneam felicitatem
The fruictfull gourde, was neighboure to the Pine,
And lowe at firste, abowt her roote did spread,
But yet, with dewes, and silver droppes in fine,
It mounted up, and almoste towch'de the head:
And with her fruicte, and leaves on everie side,
Imbras'de the tree, and did the same deride.
To whome, the Pine with longe Experience wise,
And ofte had seene, suche peacockes loose theire plumes,
Thus aunswere made, thow owght'st not to despise,
My stocke at all, oh foole, thow much presumes.
In coulde, and heate, here longe hath bene my happe,
Yet am I sounde, and full of livelie sappe.
But, when the froste, and coulde, shall thee assaie,
Thowghe nowe alofte, thow bragge, and freshlie bloome,
Yet, then thie roote, shall rotte, and fade awaie,
And shortlie, none shall knowe where was thy roome:
Thy fruicte, and leaves, that nowe so highe aspire
The passers by, shall treade within the mire.
Let them that stande, alofte on fortunes wheele,
And bragge, and boaste, with puffe of worldlie pride
Still beare in minde, howe soone the same maie reele,
And alwayes looke, for feare theire footinge slide:
And let not will, houlde up theire heades for fame,
When inwarde wantes, maie not supporte the same.