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John Heywood

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And while I at length debate and beate the bushe,
There shall steppe in other men, and catche the burdes,
And by long time lost in many vayne wurdes.
--
And while I at length debate and beat the bush, There shall step in other men, and catch the birds, And by long time lost in many vain words.
--
Part I, chapter 3.

 
John Heywood

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Time is tickell, and out of sight out of minde.
Than catche and holde while I may, fast binde fast finde.

 
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See the wretch that long has tost
On the thorny bed of pain,
At length repair his vigour lost,
And breathe and walk again:
The meanest floweret of the vale,
The simplest note that swells the gale,
The common sun, the air, the skies,
To him are opening paradise.

 
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