Michael Drayton

By them there sat the loving pelican,
Whose young ones, poison'd by the serpent's sting,
With her read more

By them there sat the loving pelican,
Whose young ones, poison'd by the serpent's sting,
With her own blood to life again doth bring.

Here when the labouring fish does at the foot arrive,
And finds that by his strength but vainly he read more

Here when the labouring fish does at the foot arrive,
And finds that by his strength but vainly he doth strive;
His tail takes in his teeth, and bending like a bow,
That's to the compass drawn, aloft himself doth throw:
Then springing at his height, as doth a little wand,
That, bended end to end, and flerted from the hand,
Far off itself doth cast. so does the salmon vaut.
And if at first he fail, his second summersaut
He instantly assays and from his nimble ring,
Still yarking never leaves, until himself he fling
Above the streamful top of the surrounded heap.

As Love and I late harbour'd in one inn,
With proverbs thus each other entertain;
"In love read more

As Love and I late harbour'd in one inn,
With proverbs thus each other entertain;
"In love there is no lack," thus I begin;
"Fair words make fools," replieth he again;
"Who spares to speak doth spare to speed," quoth I;
"As well," saith he, "too forward as too slow";
"Fortune assists the boldest," I reply;
"A hasty man," quote he, "ne'er wanted woe";
"Labour is light where love," quote I, "doth pay";
"Light burden's heavy, if far borne";
Quoth I, "The main lost, cast the by away";
"Y'have spun a fair thread," he replies in scorn.
And having thus awhile each other thwarted
Fools as we met, so fools again we parted.

In this spacious isle I think there is not one
But he hath heard some talk of Hood and read more

In this spacious isle I think there is not one
But he hath heard some talk of Hood and Little John,
Of Tuck, the merry friar, which many a sermon made
In praise of Robin Hood, his outlaws, and their trade.

Of doues I haue a dainty paire
Which, when you please to take the aier,
About your read more

Of doues I haue a dainty paire
Which, when you please to take the aier,
About your head shall gently houer,
Your cleere browe from the sunne to couer,
And with their nimble wings shall fan you
That neither cold nor heate shall tan you,
And like umbrellas, with their feathers
Sheeld you in all sorts of weathers.