waxeth away-ward, for he stoopeth in his height, and my plumes are
full of sick feathers touched with age. I must to my grave that
dischargeth all cares, and leave you to the world that increaseth many
sorrows: my silver hairs containeth great experience, and in the
number of my years are penned down the subtleties of fortune.
Therefore, as I leave you some fading pelf to countercheck poverty, so
I will bequeath you infallible precepts that shall lead you unto
virtue. First, therefore, unto thee Saladyne, the eldest, and
therefore the chiefest pillar of my house, wherein should be engraven
as well the excellence of thy father's qualities, as the essential
form of his proportion, to thee I give fourteen ploughlands, with all
my manor houses and richest plate. Next, unto Fernandyne I bequeath
twelve ploughlands. But, unto Rosader, the youngest, I give my horse,
my armor, and my lance, with sixteen ploughlands; for if the inward
thoughts be discovered by outward shadows, Rosader will exceed you all
in bounty and honor. Thus, my sons, have I parted in your portions the
substance of my wealth, wherein if you be as prodigal to spend as I
have been careful to get, your friends will grieve to see you more
wasteful than I was bountiful, and your foes smile that my fall did
begin in your excess. Let mine honor be the glass of your actions, and
the fame of my virtues the lodestar to direct the course of your
pilgrimage. Aim your deeds by my honorable endeavors, and show
yourselves scions worthy of so flourishing a tree, lest, as the birds
Halcyones, which exceed in whiteness, I hatch young ones that surpass
in blackness. Climb not, my sons: aspiring pride is a vapor that
ascendeth high, but soon turneth to smoke; they which stare at the
stars stumble upon stones, and such as gaze at the sun (unless they be
eagle-eyed) fall blind. Soar not with the hobby,[1] lest you fall with
the lark, nor attempt not with Phaeton, lest you drown with Icarus.
Fortune, when she wills you to fly, tempers your plumes with wax; and