THE TRIPLE FOOL I AM two fools, I know, For loving, and for saying so In whining poetry; But where's that wise man, that would not be I, If she would not deny ? Then as th' earth's inward narrow crooked lanes Do purge sea water's fretful salt away, I thought, if I could draw my pains Through rhyme's vexation, I should them allay. Grief brought to numbers cannot be so fierce, For he tames it, that fetters it in verse. But when I have done so, Some man, his art and voice to show, To love and grief tribute of verse belongs, For both their triumphs so are published, |