O what an easie thing is to descry The gentle blood, however it be wrapt In sade misfortunes foule deformity And wretched sorrowes which have often hapt! For, howsoever it may grow mis-shapt Like this wyld man being undisciplyned That to all virtue it may seeme unapt, Yet it will show some sparkles of gentle mynd And at the last breake forth in his owne proper kynd. Faerie Queene B. vi.
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