My heart is inditing a good matter: I speak of the things which
I have made touching the king: read more

My heart is inditing a good matter: I speak of the things which
I have made touching the king: my tongue is the pen of a ready
writer.

Better the feet slip then the tongue.
[Better the feet slip than the tongue.]

Better the feet slip then the tongue.
[Better the feet slip than the tongue.]

The first vertue, sone, if thou wilt lerne,
Is to restreyne and kepen wel thy tonge.

The first vertue, sone, if thou wilt lerne,
Is to restreyne and kepen wel thy tonge.

Marry, you are the wiser man; for many a man's tongue shakes out
his master's undoing.

Marry, you are the wiser man; for many a man's tongue shakes out
his master's undoing.

For every kind of beasts, and of birds, and of serpents, and of
things in the sea, is tamed, read more

For every kind of beasts, and of birds, and of serpents, and of
things in the sea, is tamed, and hath been tamed of mankind:
But the tongue can no man tame; it is an unruly evil, full of
deadly poison.

Thou shalt hide them in the secret of thy presence from the pride
of man: thou shalt keep them read more

Thou shalt hide them in the secret of thy presence from the pride
of man: thou shalt keep them secretly in a pavilion from the
strife of tongues.

So on the tip of his subduing tongue
All kinds of arguments and question deep,
All replication read more

So on the tip of his subduing tongue
All kinds of arguments and question deep,
All replication prompt and reason strong,
For his advantage still did wake and sleep.
To make the weeper laugh, the laugher weep,
He had the dialect and different skill,
Catching all passions in his craft of will; . . .

I cannot, nor I will not hold me still;
My tongue, though not my heart, shall have his will.

I cannot, nor I will not hold me still;
My tongue, though not my heart, shall have his will.

All swol'n with chafing, down Adonis sits,
Banning his boist'rous and unruly beast;
And now the happy read more

All swol'n with chafing, down Adonis sits,
Banning his boist'rous and unruly beast;
And now the happy season once more fits
That lovesick Love by pleading may be blest;
For lovers say the heart hath treble wrong
When it is barred the aidance of the tongue.