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The nimble dactyls, striving to outgo The drawling spondees pacing it below: The lingering spondees striving to delay The breathless dactyls with a sudden stay! Who ever saw a colt, wanton and wild, Yoked with a slow-foot ox on fallow field, Can right areed " how handsomely besets Dull spondees with the English dactylets. If Jove speak English in a thundering cloud, Thwick-thwack and riff-raff roars he out aloud. Fie on the forged mint that did create New coin of words never articulate !
The Lover deceived by his Lady's inconstancy, writeth
[From a“ Gorgeous Gallery of gallant Inventions,” 1578.)
The mist is gone that blear'd mine eyes,
The low'ring clouds I see appear;
I would you knew my sight is clear.
Did make me think that you were white;
To seem a hawk, and be a kite.
Where precious ware is to be sold,
They shall it have that giveth most.
Few things are had where is no cost:
Because I press to give no gifts,
And drives me off with many drifts..
Is this the end of all my suit,
For my good will to have a scorn? Is this of all my pains the fruit,
To have the chaff instead of corn ? Let them that list possess such dross;
For I deserve a better gain: Yet had I rather leave with loss,
Than serve and sue, and all in vain.
A WARNING FOR WOUERS.
[From “ a Handful of Pleasant Delites," 1584.]
Where Cupid's fort hath made a way, There grave advice doth bear no sway. Where love doth reign and rule the roast There reason is exiled the coast.
Like all; love none; Except ye use discretion:
First try, then trust; Be not deceived with sinful lust.
Some love for wealth, and some for hue, And none of both these loves are true. For when the mill hath lost her sails, Then must the miller lose his vails.
Of grass comes hay, ' And flowers fair will soon decay;
Of ripe comes rotten, In age all beauty is forgotten,
Some love too high and some too low;
Look not too high,
But, high or low,
But sirs, I use to tell no tales ;
I say not so
. That were too broad : Who loves not venom must shun the toad.
Who useth still the truth to tell
Thousands were good ; But few scaped drowning in Noah's flood.
Most are well bent; I must say so, lest I be shent.
[From Byrd's Sonnets and Pastorals, 1588.]
What pleasures have great princes
More dainty to their choice,
In quiet life rejoice;
All day their flocks each tendeth,
At night they take their rest;
His ship into the east,
For lawyers and their pleading,
They 'steem it not a straw; They think that honest meaning
Is of itself a law: