1605 - Breton, Nicholas - Poste with Mad Packet of Letters (pt 2) (3): Difference between revisions

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HOw beauty will make a Foole proud, I would your plaister worke did not witnesse: but had you wit to helpe wickednesse, you would put a Parrat out of countenance: your countenance is made after your conceit, as full of merrie tricks as a Monkey: and for your foot-pace, I thinke you haue sore héeles, you walke so nicely, as vpon egge-shels: your haire is none of your owne, and for your stéeple tire, it is like the gaud of a <keyword>Maid-Marion</keyword>, so that had you a foole by the hand, you might walke where you would in a <keyword>Moris-dance</keyword>: Oh fine come to it, how it fiddles like a Hackny that would tire at halfe a mile.<ref>{{:Breton, Nicholas 1879a}}, vol. II, p. 41.</ref>}}</onlyinclude>
HOw beauty will make a Foole proud, I would your plaister worke did not witnesse: but had you wit to helpe wickednesse, you would put a Parrat out of countenance: your countenance is made after your conceit, as full of merrie tricks as a Monkey: and for your foot-pace, I thinke you haue sore héeles, you walke so nicely, as vpon egge-shels: your haire is none of your owne, and for your stéeple tire, it is like the gaud of a <keyword>Maid-Marion</keyword>, so that had you a foole by the hand, you might walke where you would in a <keyword>Moris-dance</keyword>: Oh fine come to it, how it fiddles like a Hackny that would tire at halfe a mile.<ref>{{:Breton, Nicholas 1879a}}, vol. II, p. 41.</ref>}}</onlyinclude>
=== IRHB comments ===


=== Lists ===
=== Lists ===

Revision as of 21:27, 10 June 2018

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By Henrik Thiil Nielsen, 2013-08-02. Revised by Henrik Thiil Nielsen, 2018-06-10.

Allusion

28. A Letter to a proud Mistresse.
HOw beauty will make a Foole proud, I would your plaister worke did not witnesse: but had you wit to helpe wickednesse, you would put a Parrat out of countenance: your countenance is made after your conceit, as full of merrie tricks as a Monkey: and for your foot-pace, I thinke you haue sore héeles, you walke so nicely, as vpon egge-shels: your haire is none of your owne, and for your stéeple tire, it is like the gaud of a Maid-Marion, so that had you a foole by the hand, you might walke where you would in a Moris-dance: Oh fine come to it, how it fiddles like a Hackny that would tire at halfe a mile.[1]

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Sources

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Notes


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