BUT who has Witt enough to tell Me what it is? Thou mayst as well Hope Proteus's visage to express As her wilde face, since dubious she Truly to be herself, any thing els must be. 2 Now old, now young again; now low, And now as high; Now corsive, now Gratious with tickling Lenity; Proud Spanish now, now smug & sleek French, portly Roman now, now most delicious Greek. 3 Sometimes her looser garb is Prose, Sometimes in verse Straitlac'd she goes; Now she as low as hell doth curse, Now swear as high as heavn: her paint Shews her sometimes a Devil, & few times a Saint. 4 Well is she tutord how to rant, Drink, drab, & play And fear no want Though more then all she casts away. Me thinks tis worth the while to see Whether she would not prove too chargable for me. 5 Why she may easly spend a Man His soule & all. Sure yf I can I'l save that charge: Let the World call Me as they list: whats that to me? Tis best, and I had rather Wise than Witty be. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...REASONS FOR DRINKING by HENRY ALDRICH THE ANGEL, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE ON A PIECE OF TAPESTRY by GEORGE SANTAYANA MUTABILITY (2) by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY RAIN by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON TWELVE SONNETS: 4. LONELY SEASONS by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) TOM JONES by JAMES HAY BEATTIE |