The poems of Thomas Howell, 1568-1581, ed. by A.B. Grosart

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Page 211 - Golden world. jjHe golden worlde is paft fayth fome, But nowe faye I that worlde is come : Now all things may for Golde be had, For gayne of Golde, both good and bad. Now honour hie for Golde is bought, That earft of greater price was thought. For Golde the Foole alofte doth rife, And ofte is plafte aboue the wife. For Golde the fubtile fhewe their fkill, For Golde the wicked winne their will.
Page 212 - Loners light in Ladies laps. But briefe to bee, what can you craue, That now for Golde you may not haue ? Then truth to tell, and not to fayne, Right now the golden worlde doth raygne.
Page 161 - Imprinted at London in Fleeteftreate beneath the Conduite * at the figne of S.
Page 68 - Thou canft and art the onely helpe, to heale the fame againe. In thee my wealth, in thee my woe, in thee to faue or fpill. In thee my lyfe, in thee my death, doth reft to worke thy will : O falue thou then my fecret fore, fith helth in thee doe ftay : And graunt with fpeede my iuft requeft, whofe want workes my decay.
Page 176 - Troian knight imbrafed : Whofe bewties bright but darke defame hath left, Unto them both through wanton deedes preferred. As they by dynte of Death their dayes haue ended, So fhall your youth, your pompe, aud bewties grace, When nothing elfe but vertue may take place.
Page 274 - To locke for and not to come, to be in bed and not to sleepe, to serve and not to be accepted, are three tedious things.
Page 208 - Vet al things are afiuredly, as men them lift to take. (fake. But al not friends in deede, of friendfhips bounds that boftes, Take heede, no houfe may long indure, propt vp wh rotten poftes. Some rotten are at harte, yet beares a friendly...
Page 227 - Regarding naught my faythfull harte, yet from me doft it keepe. Thus harte to faine vnfkilde, in being whole is broke : In health is hurte, aliue is kilde, by dinte of dolors ftroke. And being mine, is ftoine, and led by lyking luft : Doth leaue the waye of eertaine ftay, and leaue to tiekle truft.
Page 119 - Feilde is none so ill, where fruitlefle weedes do groe, but yl fome herbe of vertue good, his pearyng flowres may fhoe So though in Howels foyle, ilwillers feeme to fee, at firft nought els but thritleffe thornes, and Thistles wilde to bee : Yet who shall vew his Feildes, and rightly them peruse, fhall fee that frutes and frutfull Herbes, do fpryng of his fweet mufe : For playnly he depayntes, the fits of youthfull loue : whofe modeft Pen from honeft aet, no mindefull man will moue.
Page 225 - Cowarde fledde, fearing the ehylde vnborne : Whofe mother hee fhould wedde, that hath the Babe forfworne. Was euer Mayde fo madde, that might her fayth forgo ? Was euer boy fo badde, to vfe a mayden fo ? His teares did me beguyle, and eleane oppreft my powre, As doth the Croeodile, in feeking to deuoure.

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