THE THIRTEENTH SATIRE OF JUVENAL, IMITATED.[1]
THERE is not one base act which men commit,
But carries this ill sting along with it,
That to the author it creates regret;
And this is some revenge at least, that he
Can ne'er acquit himself of villany,
Though a bribed judge and jury set him free.
All people, sir, abhor (as 'tis but just)
Your faithless friend, who lately broke his trust,
And curse the treacherous deed; but, thanks to fate,
That has not blessed you with so small estate,
But that with patience you may bear the cross,
And need not sink under so mean a loss.
Besides, your case for less concern does call,
Because 'tis what does usually befall;
Ten thousand such might be alleged with ease,
Out of the common crowd of instances.
Then cease, for shame, immoderate regret,
And don't your manhood and your sense forget;
'Tis womanish and silly to lay forth
More cost in grief than a misfortune's worth.[2]
- ↑ Written in April, 1682.
- ↑ When remedies are past, the griefs are ended,
By knowing the worst, which late on hopes depended.
To mourn a mischief that is past and gone,
Is the next way to draw new mischief on.
What cannot be preserved when fortune takes,
Patience her injury a mockery makes.
The robbed that smiles steals something from the thief;
He robs himself that spends a bootless grief.
Shakespeare.—Othello.