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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
 

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GEORGIVS SABINVS.
 
 
 
 
 
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GEORGIVS SABINVS.

Of the discorde of Princes.

Two thrushes falne at variaunce
together feirce do fight:
Eache seekes the other for to foyle
by strugling, strength, and might.
The Hawke (their cruell enimie)
beholdyng them at square:
In cruell clutches caught them both
and them to peaces tare.
So christian princes while they be
betwene themselues at bate,
In comes the tyrant Turke, their fo,
and spoyles them of their state.

To a Lasse, lamentyng of her mother the losse.

In wayling the departure, of
thy louyng mother deere:

56

In ragyng sort why dost thou rend
and hale from head thyne heare?
O spare thy locks (thou lewde)
and cease to pull thy pate:
Dost thinke by baldnes pilde,
thy dolor to abate?

Of a Painter: A pleasant and mery iest.

A Painter once (that was
a Zeuxis for his skill)
Had children foule, deformed, blacke
and of complexion ill.
His wife spake to hym thus in sport,
vpon a certen tyme:
Why dost thou plant so naughtly tell,
and paint so fayre and fine?
O wife (quoth he) you knowe I plant
in darkenes all the night:
But paint I doe when Phœbus raies
do cast a radiant light.

A mery iest of a scattergood.

What tyme a certen skattergood,
within his gates by night
Did entryng see a pilfring knaue,
somethyng to steale and pike.
Thou art besnerd here in the night,
to looke for ought (quoth he)
For I my selfe when Phœbus bright

[56]

doth shine, can nothyng see.

A Iest of a Iester.

A scoffer fine was wont somtime,
in iest to euery wight:
Still to rehearse Menalcas verse,
(of whom doth Maro write.)
Ile make that none with talkyng tongue,
henceforth thou shalt abuse:
This verse of Vergil still in sport,
and Iestyng he would vse.
But so it chaunced at the last,
for many a knauishe parte:
He was compeld by throtlyng cord,
of death to byde the smart.
And brought to place where he should bide,
the pinching pangs of death:
The halter tide, the hangman horst
prepard to stop his breath.
The hangman puttyng ore his head,
the halter as they vse:
Said: Ile make that none by talkyng tongue
hencefoorth thou shalt abuse.