I was promised on a time
To have reason for my rhyme;
From that time unto this season,
I received nor rhyme nor reason.
* * * * *
_Hymn in Honor of Beauty_. Line 132.
For of the soul the body form doth take,
For soul is form, and doth the Body make.
* * * * *
MOTHER HUBBERD'S TALE.
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.
SIR HENRY WOTTON.
1568-1639.
_The Character of a Happy Life_.
How happy is he born and taught,
That serveth not another's will;
Whose armor is his honest thought,
And simple truth his utmost skill!
* * * * *
Lord of himself, though not of lands;
And having nothing, yet hath all.
* * * * *
_To his Mistress, the Queen of Bohemia_.
You meaner beauties of the night,
That poorly satisfy our eyes
More by your number than your light!
* * * * *
DR.
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