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Triple Fool, TheTriple Fool, The
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,
Doth set and sing my pain ;
And, by delighting many, frees again
Grief, which verse did restrain.
To love and grief tribute of verse belongs,
But not of such as pleases when `tis read.
Both are increasèd by such songs,
For both their triumphs so are published,
And I, which was two fools, do so grow three.
Who are a little wise, the best fools be.
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