Page:The muses threnodie (Adamson, 1638).djvu/10

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For there is such varietie,
Looking breeds no sacietie.
In one nooke stands Loquhabrian axes,
And in another nooke the glaxe is.
Heere lyes a book they call the dennet,
There lyes the head of old Brown Kennet,
Here lyes a turkasse, and a hammer,
There lyes a Greek and Latine Grammer,
Heere hings an auncient mantua bannet,
There hings a Robin and a Iannet,
Upon a cord that's strangular
A buffet stoole sexangular:
A foole muting in his owne hand;
Soft, soft my Muse, sound not this sand,
What ever matter come athorter
Touch not I pray the iron morter.
His cougs, his dishes, and his caps,
A Totum,and some bairnes taps;
A gadareilie, and a whisle,
A trumpe, an Abercome mussell,
His hats, his hoods, his bels, his bones,
His allay bowles, and curling stones,
The sacred games to celebrat,
Which to the Gods are consecrat.
And more, this cabine to adorne,
Diana gave her hunting horne,
And that there should be no defect,
God Momus gift did not inlake:
Only * * *, was to blame,
Who would bestow nothing for shame;
This Cabine was so cram'd with store
She could not enter at the doore.
This prettie want for to supplie
A privie parlour, stands neere by.

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