Book 4 — MOTHER HUBBERD'S TALE.
Reading edition
Full little knowest thou that hast not tride, What hell it is in suing long to bide; To loose good dayes, that might be better spent To wast long nights in pensive discontent; To speed to-day, to be put back to-morrow; To feed on hope, to pine with feare and sorrow;
To fret thy soule with crosses and with cares; To eate thy heart through comfortlesse dispaires; To fawne, to crowche, to waite, to ride, to ronne, To spend, to give, to want, to be undonne.