Study Desk

A cock ready to fight: A rame: And a kynge yt goeth forth wt his people.

Who so chyrneth mylck, maketh butter: he that rubbeth his nose, maketh it blede, and he that causeth wrath, bryngeth forth strife.

These are the wordes of Kynge Lamuel, & ye lesson yt his mother taught him.

The Sone aryseth, the Sonne goeth downe, & returneth to his place, yt he maye there ryse vp agayne.

The wynde goeth towarde ye South, & fetcheth his copase aboute vnto the North, & so turneth in to himself agayne.

for where moch wy?dome is, there is also greate trauayle & disquietnes: & ye more knowlege a man hath, the more is his care.

For a wyse man beareth his eyes aboute in his heade, but the foole goeth in the darknesse. I perceaued also that they both had one ende.

for so moch as a man shulde weery him self with wy?dome, with vnderstondinge and opportunite, and yet be fayne to leaue his labours vnto another, yt neuer swett for them. This is also a vayne thinge and a greate misery.

For what getteth a ma of all ye labor & trauayle of his mynde, yt he taketh vnder the Sonne,

but heuynesse, sorowe & disquyetnes all ye dayes of his life? In so moch that his herte can not rest in the night. Is not this also a vayne thinge?

Is it not better then for a ma to eate and drynke, and his soule to be mery in his laboure? Yee I sawe that this also was a gifte of God:

All this hath he ordened maruelous goodly, to euery thinge his due tyme. He hath plated ignoraunce also in the hertes of men, yt they shulde not fynde out ye grounde of his workes, which he doth from ye beginninge to ye ende.

For all yt a man eateth & drynketh, yee what so euer a ma enioyeth of all his labor, ye same is a gift of God.

Wherfore I perceaue, yt there is nothyinge better for a man, then to be ioyfull in his laboure, for that is his porcion. But who wil brynge him to se the thinge, that shal come after him?

The foole foldeth his handes together, & eateth vp his owne flesh.

There is one man, no mo but himself alone, hauynge nether childe ner brother: yet is there no ende of his carefull trauayle, his eyes can not be satisfied with riches, (yet doth he not remembre himself, & saye:) For whom do I take soch trauayle? For whose pleasure do I thus consume awaye my lyfe? This is also a vayne and miserable thinge.

Yf one of them fall, his companyon helpeth him vp againe: But wo is him that is alone, for yf he fall, he hath not another to helpe him vp.

Where as many riches are, there are many also that spende them awaye. And what pleasure more hath he that possesseth them, sauynge that he maye loke vpon them with his eyes?

For oft times they perishe with his greate misery and trouble: and yf he haue a childe, it getteth nothinge.

Like as he came naked out of his mothers wombe, so goeth he thither agayne, and carieth nothinge awaye with him of all his laboure.