A philosophicall discourse, entituled, The anatomie of the minde. Nevvlie made and set forth by T.R.

¶Abraham Fowlers needeles Haedera.

TO hange an heape of Iuie boughes, where bootes or néedes none such, Is but a toye to serue the tyme, and yet we vse it much. For good endeuours gaine the goale, and practise proues it true, That honest paines doo purchase praise, and labors winne their lewe. Then Rogers reape thy iust rewarde, that dainedst to deuise, An happie worke which must of force, the learned sort suffice.

Who•• golden penne hath put in proofe, no v••••ne conceiptes of loue, Ne p••••sions strange which in such sorte, the ••oting minde maye moue: But howe to rule the raines of wrath, to conquer furies kinde, As all thinges else (in morall phrase) that maye molest the minde. For euerie griefe that gripes the soule, a soueraigne helpe in store: The wounde, the weale: the cause, the cure: a salue for euerie sore. Thrise happie toyle for him which tooke, the paines in penning thée, And for that worthie gentle wight, which must thy patrone bee. Let enuie glut his gorge with griefe, and rancor rage his fyll, Yet Momus must to cunning couche, and scorners yéelde to skyll. The wyse that reade these fruitfull lines, where luckie blisse doth lurke, Wyll wishe with mée, God guide his head, that framde so fayre a worke.