The most elegant and witty epigrams of Sir Iohn Harrington, Knight digested into foure bookes: three vvhereof neuer before published.

About this Item

Title: The most elegant and witty epigrams of Sir Iohn Harrington, Knight digested into foure bookes: three vvhereof neuer before published.
Author: Harington, John, Sir, 1560-1612.
Publication: London :: Printed by G[eorge] P[urslowe] for Iohn Budge: and are to be sold at his shop in Paules Church-yard at the signe of the Greene Dragon,; 1618.
Rights/Permissions: To the extent possible under law, the Text Creation Partnership has waived all copyright and related or neighboring rights to this keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above, according to the terms of the CC0 1.0 Public Domain Dedication (http://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/). This waiver does not extend to any page images or other supplementary files associated with this work, which may be protected by copyright or other license restrictions. Please go to http://www.textcreationpartnership.org/ for more information.
Subject terms: Epigrams, English.
Link to this Item: http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A02647.0001.001
Cite this Item: "The most elegant and witty epigrams of Sir Iohn Harrington, Knight digested into foure bookes: three vvhereof neuer before published." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A02647.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 15, 2024.

Pages

13 Against Cayus that scorn'd his Metamorphosis.
LAst day thy Mistris, Cayus, being present,
One hapt to name, to purpose not vnpleasant,
The Title of my mis-conceiued Booke:
At which you spit, as though you could not brooke
So grosse a Word: but shall I tell the matter
Why? If one names a Iax, your lips doe water.
There was the place of your first loue and meeting,
There first you gaue your Mistris such a greeting,
As bred her scorne, your shame, and others lafter,
And made her feele it twenty fortnights after:
Then thanke their wit, that make the place so sweet,
That for your Hymen you thought place so meet.
But meet not Maids at Madam Cloacina,
Lest they cry nine moneths after, Helpe Lucina.