Qvips vpon qvestions or, A Clownes conceite on occasion offered. bewraying a morrallised metamorphoses of changes vpon interrogatories: shewing a litle wit, with a great deale of will; or in deed, more desirous to please in it, then to profite by it. Clapt vp by a Clowne of the towne in this last restraint, hauing litle else to doe, to make a litle vse of his fickle Muse, and carelesse of carping. By Clunnyco de Curtanio Snuffe [i.e. Robert Armin] |
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Who is happy?
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 | Qvips vpon qvestions |  |
Who is happy?
Who is happie? Marry he that is ritch.
O y'are disceiued, it is nothing so:
You would be that way blest. Sir y'are a witch,
You know my thoughts. I, and I know thy woe.
When thou art knowne rich, thou maist wel be bold
Thy friendes will cut thy throate to haue thy gold.
O y'are disceiued, it is nothing so:
You would be that way blest. Sir y'are a witch,
You know my thoughts. I, and I know thy woe.
When thou art knowne rich, thou maist wel be bold
Thy friendes will cut thy throate to haue thy gold.
Then who is happy, let me heare of you,
The strong man, meane you him? No he is weake,
Strength is a blessing I can well alow.
But not a happy blessing? Good sir speake.
He that hath strong armes, legges, and limbs,
Is like a bubble that in water swims.
The strong man, meane you him? No he is weake,
Strength is a blessing I can well alow.
But not a happy blessing? Good sir speake.
He that hath strong armes, legges, and limbs,
Is like a bubble that in water swims.
What, is the wise man happy? I, some wayes.
It should be so for which men practize schooles:
Yet it falles out with many now a dayes,
That ouer much witt makes a number fooles.
Then fare well witt, because Ile not abuse thee.
Come not at me, I know not how to vse thee.
It should be so for which men practize schooles:
Yet it falles out with many now a dayes,
That ouer much witt makes a number fooles.
Then fare well witt, because Ile not abuse thee.
Come not at me, I know not how to vse thee.
He that liues well, and dies well, I say still.
But who is that? Nay when I know Ile tell thee:
Then I am not the neare, I want my will.
True, and thou must but harken what I will thee.
No man shall answere one anothers part,
But each man for himselfe shall: O my hart!
But who is that? Nay when I know Ile tell thee:
Then I am not the neare, I want my will.
True, and thou must but harken what I will thee.
No man shall answere one anothers part,
But each man for himselfe shall: O my hart!
Quip.
What, startst thou backe for feare? & dost thou quakeI see thou knowst no answere what to make.
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