A poore Knight his Pallace of priuate pleasures Gallantly garnished, with goodly Galleries of strang inuentio[n]s and prudently polished, with sundry pleasant Posies, & other fine fancies of dainty deuices, and rare delightes. Written by a student in Ca[m]bridge. And published by I. C. Gent |
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The poore Knight his farewel to his Booke.
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 | A poore Knight his Pallace of priuate pleasures |  |
The poore Knight his farewel to his Booke.
If
Robinson, which hath no cause to feare,
Did stand in dout, that hee should haue a rome:
Where Cheryll keepes, that hee I say euen there,
Should stand and tell, what Poets thither come:
Behinde the doore, there Cheryll tels his case,
And whips the dogges, out of that sacred place.
Did stand in dout, that hee should haue a rome:
Where Cheryll keepes, that hee I say euen there,
Should stand and tell, what Poets thither come:
Behinde the doore, there Cheryll tels his case,
And whips the dogges, out of that sacred place.
If hee I say, this infamy did feare,
Which hath deserued, such fame in English coast:
Then farewell Booke, thy Maisters hap declare,
Who thinkes himselfe, inferior vnto most:
Thy Maister feares, by crooked chance and fate,
To haue a place without the Porters gate.
Which hath deserued, such fame in English coast:
Then farewell Booke, thy Maisters hap declare,
Who thinkes himselfe, inferior vnto most:
Thy Maister feares, by crooked chance and fate,
To haue a place without the Porters gate.
Not once to see, the Lawreat Poets place,
Ne yet to speake vnto that dogged wight:
Then farewell Booke, bewray thy Maisters case,
Who stands in dout, to put his name to light:
Least that as hee, which Cheryll hath to name,
The world should seeme, to blaze thy Maisters shame.
Ne yet to speake vnto that dogged wight:
Then farewell Booke, bewray thy Maisters case,
Who stands in dout, to put his name to light:
Least that as hee, which Cheryll hath to name,
The world should seeme, to blaze thy Maisters shame.
And sith thou art in yeares my eldest Sonne,
Disdaine thou not, this vsage to begin:
From hand to hand, addresse thy selfe to ronne,
And seeke good will, of euery man to win:
If Momus barke, and Zoylus gin to chat,
Bee of good cheare, and doo not blush at that.
Disdaine thou not, this vsage to begin:
From hand to hand, addresse thy selfe to ronne,
And seeke good will, of euery man to win:
If Momus barke, and Zoylus gin to chat,
Bee of good cheare, and doo not blush at that.
And if thou speede, ere many yeares bee past,
Thy brethren shall insew thy former race:
If thou speed not, then shalt thou bee the last,
As thou wert first, which did begin this case:
Speede well, speede yll, herof shalbe an ende,
Adew good Childe, commend mee to my freend.
Thy brethren shall insew thy former race:
If thou speed not, then shalt thou bee the last,
As thou wert first, which did begin this case:
Speede well, speede yll, herof shalbe an ende,
Adew good Childe, commend mee to my freend.
| A poore Knight his Pallace of priuate pleasures | |