Tyros Roring Megge Planted against the walles of Melancholy. One Booke cut into two Decads [by T. Tyro] |
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Epig. 5. |
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 | Tyros Roring Megge |  |
Epig. 5.
VVhat is he vnder heauens inammeld vault,That liueth spotlesse, and deuoide of fault?
Where is the soule contain'd in brickle wall
That standes so firmely that she cannot fall?
Venus was debonaire, and beauties grace,
And yet a mole lay sleeping on her face.
Faire are the sphears wherein the Planets bin,
And yet colde Saturne claimes a place therein.
No meruaile then though Tyro haue some blot,
Sith perfect vertue fals to no mans lot.
Tyro can strike the sitterns siluer string,
And to the lute full many a dittie sing.
Tyro can act and if he like the Stage,
Hop like a Bull-finch in a Barbers cage.
Yet when he solde his Ælian at the stall,
Had not the villaine almost sham'd vs al?
Would not the drowsie dormouse haue bin hang'd,
That slept till ten a clocke and then was Stang'd?
O faults! no faultes, but trickes of gentle kinde,
And Proper adiuncts to a youthfull minde.
| Tyros Roring Megge | |