Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=529318" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Eclogue The Third</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Wouldst thou kenn Nature in her better parte?<br>Goe, serche the logges and bordels of the hynde ;<br>Gyfe theye have anie, itte ys roughe-made arte,<br>Inne hem you see the blakied forme of kynde .<br>Haveth your mind a lycheynge of a mynde?<br>Woulde it kenne everich thynge as it mote bee;<br>Woulde ytte here phrase of the vulgar from the hynde,<br>Wythoute wiseegger wordes and knowlache free,<br>Gyf soe, rede thys, whych Iche dysporteynge pende,<br>Gif nete besyde, yttes rhyme maie ytte commend. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">MANNE</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Botte whether, fayre mayde do ye goe,<br>O where do ye bend yer waie?<br>I wile knowe whether you goe,<br>I wylle not be asseled naie.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">WOMANNE</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To Robyn and Nell, all downe in the Delle,<br>To hele hem at makeynge of haie.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">MANNE</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Syr Rogerre the Parsone hav hyred mee there,<br>Comme, Comme, lette us tryppe ytte awaie;<br>We'lle wurche and wylle synge, and wylle drenche of stronge Beere,<br>As longe as the merrie sommers daie. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">WOMANNE</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Howe harde ys mie dome to wurch!<br>Moke is mie woe:<br>Dame Agnes whoe lies ynne the Chyrche,<br>With birlette golde;<br>Wythe gelten aumeres stronge ontolde,<br>What was shee moe than me, to be soe?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">MANNE</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I kenne Syr Roger from afar,<br>Tryppynge over the Lea,<br>Ich ask whie the loverds son<br>Is moe than mee. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">SIR ROGERE</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The sweltrie sonne dothe hie apace hys wayne .<br>From everich beme, a seme of lyfe doe falle;<br>Swythyn scille oppe the haie uponne the playne,<br>Methynckes the cockse begynneth to gre talle:<br>Thys ys alyche oure doome , the great, the smalle,<br>Moste withe and be forwyned by Deathis darte;<br>See the swote flourette hathe noe swote at alle;<br>Itte wythe the ranke wede berethe evalle parte,<br>The cravent , warriour, and the wyse be blent :<br>Alyche to drie awaie, with those thele did bemente . </div><div style="margin:10px 0">MANNE</div><div style="margin:10px 0">All-a-Boon Syr Priest, all-a-boon,<br>Bye yer preesteschype nowe saye unto mee:<br>Sir Gaufryd the knyghte, who lyveth harde bie,<br>Whie should hee, than me<br>Bee moe greate,<br>Inne honnoure, knyghtehoode and estate?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">SIR ROGERE</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Attourne thine eyne arounde thys haied mee,<br>Tentyflie loke arounde the chaper delle ;<br>An answer to thie barganette here see,<br>Thys welked flouertte wylle a leson telle <br>Arist , it blew , itte florished, and dyd welle,<br>Lokeynge ascaunce upon the naighboure greene,<br>Yet with the deigned greene, yttes rennome felle,<br>Eftsonnes ytte shronke upon the daie-brente playne,<br>Didde not yttes loke, whilest ytte there dyd stonde,<br>To croppe ytte in the bodde move somme drede honde.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Syke ys the waie of lyffe: the loverds ente ,<br>Mooveth the robber hym therfor to slea: <br>Gyf thou has ethe , the shadowe of contente,<br>Believe the trothe , theres none moe haile yan thee: <br>Thou wurchest ; welle, canne thatte, a trobble bee?<br>Slothe moe wulde jade thee, than the roughest daie,<br>Couldest thou the kivercled of soughlys see,<br>Thou wuldst eftsoones see trothe, inne whatte I saie;<br>Botte lette mee heere thie waie offe lyffe; and thenne<br>Heare thou from mee the lyffs of odher menne.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">MANNE.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I ryse wythe the Sonne,<br>Lyche hym to dryve the wayne <br>And eere mie wurche is don<br>I synge a Songe or twayne. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">I followe the plough tayle,<br>Wythe a long jubb of ale.<br>Botte of the Maydens, oh!<br>Itte lacketh notte to telle;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Syr Preeste mote notte crie woe,<br>Culde hys bull do as welle<br>I daunce the beste heiedeygnes ,<br>And foile the wysest feygnes.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On everych Seynctes his daie,<br>Wythe the mynstrelle am I seen, <br>All a footeynge it awaie,<br>Wythe maydens on the greene<br>But oh! I wyshe to be moe greate,<br>In rennome, tenure and estate.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">SIR ROGERRE.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Has thou ne sene a tree uponne a hylle,<br>Whose unliste braunces rechen far toe syghte;<br>Whan fuired unwers doe the heaven fylle,<br>Itte shaketh deere yn dole and moke affryghte:<br>Whilst the congeon flowrette abessie dyghte ,<br>Stondeth unhurte, unquaced bie the storme; <br>Syke is a picte of lyffe: the manne of myghte,<br>Is tempest-chaft : hys woe greate as hys forme<br>Thieself a flourette of a small accounte,<br>Wouldst harder felle the wynde, as hygher thee dydste mount.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Thomas+Chatterton">Thomas Chatterton</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=529318" data-title="Eclogue The Third de Thomas Chatterton" data-description="Wouldst thou kenn Nature in her better parte?
Goe, serche the logges and bordels of the hynde ;
Gyfe theye have anie, itte ys roughe-made arte,
Inne hem you see the blakied forme of kynde .
Haveth your mind a lycheynge of a mynde?
Woulde it kenne ..."></div>
</div>
</div>