我的约翰·波因兹，既然你喜欢知道我为什么要回家，为什么要逃避法庭的蜂拥而来，而不愿在高贵的目光的威吓下，裹在我的斗篷里，屈从于意志和欲望，学习制定法律，这并不是因为我蔑视或嘲笑他们的权力，命运赋予我们权力，让我们有权打击他们。不过，我确实一向不太看重他们，而看重一般人的外表，只看重他们的意图，而不顾他们的内心。有时，光荣的火焰会灼伤我的心。我不以荣誉来报告责备，以荣誉来报告欲望。但我怎能获得这种荣誉，不能把骗子的颜色染黑?我的波因茨，我不能从我自己的调调中假装，为赞美而掩饰真理，而不抛弃那些列出所有罪恶来保留的人。我不能尊敬那些终身与维纳斯和巴克斯为伴的人;即使我很聪明，也不能对他们保持沉默。我不能蹲着或跪着去做这么大的坏事，去崇拜他们，像崇拜世上唯一的上帝一样，他们在我中间就像狼一样。我不能用言语抱怨、呻吟、不受苦、也不能不抱怨、也不能收回我口中已发的言语。 I cannot speak and look like a saint, Use willes for wit, and make deceit a pleasure, And call craft counsel, for profit still to paint. I cannot wrest the law to fill the coffer With innocent blood to feed myself fat, And do most hurt where most help I offer. I am not he that can allow the state Of him Caesar, and damn Cato to die, That with his death did scape out of the gate From Caesar's hands (if Livy do not lie) And would not live where liberty was lost; So did his heart the common weal apply. I am not he such eloquence to boast To make the crow singing as the swan; Nor call the liond of cowardes beasts the most That cannot take a mouse as the cat can; And he that dieth for hunger of the gold Call him Alexander; and say that Pan Passeth Apollo in music many fold; Praise Sir Thopias for a noble tale, And scorn the story that the Knight told; Praise him for counsel that is drunk of ale; Grin when he laugheth that beareth all the sway, Frown when he frowneth and groan when is pale; On others' lust to hang both night and day: None of these points would ever frame in me. My wit is nought--I cannot learn the way. And much the less of things that greater be, That asken help of colours of device To join the mean with each extremity, With the nearest virtue to cloak alway the vice; And as to purpose, likewise it shall fall To press the virtue that it may not rise; As drunkenness good fellowship to call; The friendly foe with his double face Say he is gentle and courteous therewithal; And say that favel hath a goodly grace In eloquence; and cruelty to name Zeal of justice and change in time and place; And he that suffer'th offence without blame Call him pitiful; and him true and plain That raileth reckless to every man's shame. Say he is rude that cannot lie and feign; The lecher a lover; and tyranny To be the right of a prince's reign. I cannot, I; no, no, it will not be! This is the cause that I could never yet Hang on their sleeves that way, as thou mayst see, A chip of chance more than a pound of wit. This maketh me at home to hunt and to hawk, And in foul weather at my book to sit; In frost and snow then with my bow to stalk; No man doth mark whereso I ride or go: In lusty leas at liberty I walk. And of these news I feel nor weal nor woe, Save that a clog doth hang yet at my heel. No force for that, for it is ordered so, That I may leap both hedge and dyke full well. I am not now in France to judge the wine, With saffry sauce the delicates to feel; Nor yet in Spain, where one must him incline Rather than to be, outwardly to seem: I meddle not with wits that be so fine. Nor Flanders' cheer letteth not my sight to deem Of black and white; nor taketh my wit away With beastliness; they beasts do so esteem. Nor I am not where Christ is given in prey For money, poison, and treason at Rome-- A common practice used night and day: But here I am in Kent and Christendom Among the Muses where I read and rhyme; Where if thou list, my Poinz, for to come, Thou shalt be judge how I do spend my time.