Flovvers of Epigrammes Ovt of sundrie the moste singular authours selected, as well auncient as late writers. Pleasant and profitable to the expert readers of quicke capacitie: By Timothe Kendall |
To one that painted Eccho.
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Flovvers of Epigrammes | ||
To one that painted Eccho.
Thou wiltles wight, what meanes this mad intent,To draw my face and forme, vnknowne to thee?
What meanst thou so for to molesten mee?
Whom neuer eye beheld, nor man could see.
Daughter to talkyng tongue, and ayre am I,
My mother nothyng is when thinges are wayde,
I am a voyce without the bodies ayde.
When all the tale is tolde and sentence saide,
Then I recite the latter ende afreshe,
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Within your eares my chefest harbour lies,
There doe I wonne, not seen with mortall eyes.
And more to tell and farther to proceede,
I Eccho hight of men below in ground:
If thou wilt draw my counterfet indeede,
Then must thou paint (O Painter) but a sound.
Flovvers of Epigrammes | ||