A chaunce may wynne that by mischance was lost;
The nett that houldes no greate, takes little fishe;
In some thinges all, in all thinges none are croste,
Fewe all they neede, but none have all they wishe;
Unmedled joyes here to no man befall,
Who least hath some, who most hath never all.
NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS.
Turnbull has once more provoking misprints in this poem: e.g. st. i. line 3, 'sorest' for 'sorriest:' st. ii. line 3, 'time' for 'tide:' st. iv. line 2, 'web' for 'nett.' 1596 in st. iii. line 2 has 'nor yet' for 'yet not.' 1630 in st.iv.line 5 reads 'vnmingled.' G.
LOOKE HOME.
Retyrèd thoughtes enjoy their owne delightes,
As beauty doth in self-behoulding eye;
Man's mynde a mirrhour is of heavenly sightes,
A breife wherein all marveylls summèd lye,
Of fayrest formes and sweetest shapes the store,
Most gracefull all, yet thought may grace them more.
The mynde a creature is, yet can create,
To Nature's paterns adding higher skill;
Of fynest workes witt better could the state
If force of witt had equall poure of will:
Devise of man in working hath no ende;
What thought can thinke an other thought can mende.
