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These be the bitter fountains, heads and roots, Whence flowed the source, the sprigs, the boughs, and fruits, Of more than thou canst hear or I relate, That with high hand I still did perpetrate; For these were threatened the woful day I mockt the Preachers, put it far away; The Sermons yet upon Record do stand That cri'd destruction to my wicked land; I then believed not, now I feel and see, The plague of stubborn incredulity.
Us both they basely mockt and handled -Us both they basely mockt and handled Was I there with blood bedabbled -all with blood was I bedabbled Gushing grievous from . . . gushing grievous from his dear side, . . . . . . . . . -when his ghost he had uprendered. . . . . . . . . . -How on that hill . . . . . . . . . -have I throwed . . . . . . . . . -dole the direst. . . . . . . . . . -All day viewed I hanging . . . . . . . . . -the God of hosts . . . . . . . . . -Gloomy and swarthy . . . . . . . . . -clouds had cover'd . . . . . . . . . -the corse of the Waldend.* . . . . . . . . . -O'er the sheer shine-path . . . . . . . . . -shadows fell heavy . . . . . . . . . -wan 'neath the nelkin . . . . . . . . . -wept all creation . . . . . . . . . -wail'd the fall of their king.
Gito mockt his humour, and for every crack he gave, return'd the like, that one ill-scent might stifle another.
Twas he, Ime certaine on't; I felt his lips, And they were flesh; they breath'd on mine a warmth Temperate as westerne kisses which the morne Weaps liquid drops to purchase. This confirmes It was no apparition that contemnd My willingnes, but he, his reall selfe, Mockt my integrity: he must not passe soe, To blase abroad my infamy. Lov.
'No! he said to himself; 'no heart that loves can willingly expose itself to this dreary hubbub of noise, in which every longing and every tear is scoft and mockt at by the wild laughter of pealing trumpets.
A gammon of Bacon makes a man drink, drinking quencheth a mans thirst; Ergo, a gammon of bacon quencheth a mans thirst. Let him mock at it, it is more wittie to be mockt at than to be answered. Let him borrow this pleasant counter-craft of Aristippus; "Why shall I unbind that, which being bound doth so much trouble me?"
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