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.

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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 1, 2024.

Pages

659. On Bombo.
When Bombo preaches (and that's thrice a year)
Nothing but wit sounds wisely in his ear.
His ••ustian phrases make a noise; each strain
And swelling rapture fills his mouth again:
He's parcell-States-man, parcell-Priest, and so
If you observe, he's parcel Poet to.
Bombo thy fetches▪ and thy fangles may
Become a stage perhaps, but us'd this way,
Th'are base, and impious: let me prevail,
Talk till thy strong lines choak thee; if they fail,
Commence at Tyburn in a cart, sweet Poet,
And there a strong line will for cert••in do it.