William Basse Poems

As inward love breeds outward talk,
The Hound some praise, and some the Hawk;
Some, better pleas'd with private sport,
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Renowned Spenser, lie a thought more nigh
To learned Chaucer, and rare Beaumont lie
A little nearer Spenser, to make room
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When Cynthia sitting on her siluer throne
First told my Muse the story you shall heare,
She strictly charg'd her not to make it knowne,
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Forth from my sad and darksome cell,
Or from the deepe abysse of hell,
Mad Tom is come into the world againe
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A soule ore-laden with a greater Summe
Of ponderous sorrow then she can sustaine,
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This Muses story, that a Princes eares
Did once vouchsafe to grace, and such a one
As in his tyme, and at his youthfull yeares,
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That when encrease of Age and Learning sets
My Minde in wealthi'r state then now it is,
Ile pay a greater portion of my debts,
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Reade one, and say, tis good; I beare the name:
Reade one, and say, tis ill; I beare the shame:
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Forth from the dark and dismal Cell,
Or from the deep abiss of Hell,
Mad Tom is come to view the World again,
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Argument.From Heauen, with Earth offended,
Two Gods (as Spies) descended.

How apt the slanderous and unciuill tongues
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