Philosophicall fancies | ||
An Epistle to my Musefull Thoughts.
Thoughts , trouble not the Soule with falling out,Siding in Factions, with Feare, Hope and Doubt.
Taking out all the Fancies as you meet.
Some Fancies are like wilde, and Toyish Girles,
And some are sober, grave; others are Churles.
Let those that sober, sad, a Pavin measure,
Corantoes are the lighter Fancies pleasure.
Let Churlish Fancies dance with crabbed Feet,
In Numbers odd, not even, smooth, nor sweet.
Philosophicall fancies | ||