I Am That Merry Wanderer Of The

Be Not Too Tame Neither, But Let Your Own Discretion Be Your Tutor; Suit The Action To The Word, The Word To The Action.

The Urging Of That Word, Judgment, Hath Bred A Kind Of Remorse In Me.

Light Boats Sail Swift, Though Greater Hulks Draw Deep.

I Had Rather Be A Kitten, And Cry Mew, Than One Of These Same Meeter Ballad-mongers: I Had Rather Heare A Brazen Candlestick Turn'd, Or A Dry Wheele Grate On The Axle-tree, And That Would Set My Teeth Nothing An Edge, Nothing So Much, As Mincing Poetrie.

Scratching Could Not Make It Worse, An't Were Such A Face As Yours Were.