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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=530240" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>An Ode to Master Anthony Stafford to hasten Him into the Country</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">COME, spur away, <br> I have no patience for a longer stay, <br> But must go down <br> And leave the chargeable noise of this great town: <br> I will the country see, <br> Where old simplicity, <br> Though hid in gray, <br> Doth look more gay <br> Than foppery in plush and scarlet clad. <br> Farewell, you city wits, that are <br> Almost at civil war-- <br>'Tis time that I grow wise, when all the world grows mad. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> More of my days <br> I will not spend to gain an idiot's praise; <br> Or to make sport <br> For some slight Puisne of the Inns of Court. <br> Then, worthy Stafford, say, <br> How shall we spend the day? <br> With what delights <br> Shorten the nights? <br> When from this tumult we are got secure, <br> Where mirth with all her freedom goes, <br> Yet shall no finger lose; <br>Where every word is thought, and every thought is pure? </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> There from the tree <br> We'll cherries pluck, and pick the strawberry; <br> And every day <br> Go see the wholesome country girls make hay, <br> Whose brown hath lovelier grace <br> Than any painted face <br> That I do know <br> Hyde Park can show: <br> Where I had rather gain a kiss than meet <br> (Though some of them in greater state <br> Might court my love with plate) <br>The beauties of the Cheap, and wives of Lombard Street. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> But think upon <br> Some other pleasures: these to me are none. <br> Why do I prate <br> Of women, that are things against my fate! <br> I never mean to wed <br> That torture to my bed: <br> My Muse is she <br> My love shall be. <br> Let clowns get wealth and heirs: when I am gone <br> And that great bugbear, grisly Death, <br> Shall take this idle breath, <br>If I a poem leave, that poem is my son. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Of this no more! <br> We'll rather taste the bright Pomona's store. <br> No fruit shall 'scape <br> Our palates, from the damson to the grape. <br> Then, full, we'll seek a shade, <br> And hear what music 's made; <br> How Philomel <br> Her tale doth tell, <br> And how the other birds do fill the quire; <br> The thrush and blackbird lend their throats, <br> Warbling melodious notes; <br>We will all sports enjoy which others but desire. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Ours is the sky, <br> Where at what fowl we please our hawk shall fly: <br> Nor will we spare <br> To hunt the crafty fox or timorous hare; <br> But let our hounds run loose <br> In any ground they'll choose; <br> The buck shall fall, <br> The stag, and all. <br> Our pleasures must from their own warrants be, <br> For to my Muse, if not to me, <br> I'm sure all game is free: <br>Heaven, earth, are all but parts of her great royalty. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> And when we mean <br> To taste of Bacchus' blessings now and then, <br> And drink by stealth <br> A cup or two to noble Barkley's health, <br> I'll take my pipe and try <br> The Phrygian melody; <br> Which he that hears, <br> Lets through his ears <br> A madness to distemper all the brain: <br> Then I another pipe will take <br> And Doric music make, <br>To civilize with graver notes our wits again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Thomas+Randolph">Thomas Randolph</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=530240" data-title="An Ode to Master Anthony Stafford to hasten Him into the Country de Thomas Randolph" data-description="COME, spur away, I have no patience for a longer stay, But must go down And leave the chargeable noise of this great town: I will the country see, Where..."></div> </div> </div>
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