Recreation for ingenious head-peeces, or, A pleasant grove for their wits to walk in of epigrams 700, epitaphs 200, fancies a number, fantasticks abundance : with their addition, multiplication, and division.
About this Item
- Title
- Recreation for ingenious head-peeces, or, A pleasant grove for their wits to walk in of epigrams 700, epitaphs 200, fancies a number, fantasticks abundance : with their addition, multiplication, and division.
- Author
- Mennes, John, Sir, 1599-1671.
- Publication
- London :: Printed by M. Simmons ...,
- 1654.
- 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
- English wit and humor.
- Epigrams.
- Epitaphs.
- Link to this Item
-
http://name.umdl.umich.edu/A50616.0001.001
- Cite this Item
-
"Recreation for ingenious head-peeces, or, A pleasant grove for their wits to walk in of epigrams 700, epitaphs 200, fancies a number, fantasticks abundance : with their addition, multiplication, and division." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/A50616.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 8, 2024.
Pages
Page [unnumbered]
Which we poor silly fish devour, til strook,
At last too late we feel the bitter hook.
At other times he brings his net, and then
At once sweeps up whole Cities ful of men,
Drawing up thousands at a draught, and saves
Onely some few, to make the others graves:
His Net some raging pestilence; now he
Is not so kind as other Fishers be;
For if they take one of the smaller ••rye,
They throw him in again, he shall not dye:
But death is sure to kill all he can get,
And all is Fish with him that comes to Net.