Post amara dulcia
To M. THOMAS MYNORS.
Sharpe prickes preserve the Rose, on everie parte,
That who in haste to pull the same intendes,
Is like to pricke his fingers, till they smarte?
But being gotte, it makes him straight amendes
It is so freshe, and pleasant to the smell,
Thoughe he was prick'd, he thinkes he ventur'd well.
And he that faine woulde get the gallant rose,
And will not reache, for feare his fingers bleede;
A nettle, is more fitter for his nose?
Or hemblocke meete his appetite to feede?
None merites sweete, who tasted not the sower,
Who feares to climbe, deserves no fruicte, nor flower.
Which showes, we shoulde not fainte for anie paine,
For to atchieve the fruictes of our desire:
But still proceede, and hope at lengthe to gaine,
The thinges wee wishe, and crave with hartes entire:
Which all our toile, and labour, shal requite,
For after paine, comes pleasure, and delighte.
When winter endes, comes in the pleasant springe.
When nighte is done, the gladsome daye appeares.
When greifes be gone, then joye doth make us singe.
When stormes be paste, the variing weather cleares.
So after paines, our pleasures make us glad,
But without sower, the sweete is hardlie had.