His eye begets occasion for his wit;
For every object that the one doth catch
The other turns to a mirth-moving jest,
Which his fair tongue, conceit's expositor,
Delivers in such apt and gracious words,
That aged ears play truant at his tales,
And younger hearings are quite ravished,
So sweet and voluble is his discourse.
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But that I am forbid
To tell the secrets of my prison house,
I could a tale read more
But that I am forbid
To tell the secrets of my prison house,
I could a tale unfold whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,
Make thy two eyes like stars start from their spheres,
Thy knotted and combined locks to part,
And each particular hair to stand on end
Like quills upon the fretful porpentine.
This story will never go down.
This story will never go down.
In after-dinner talk,
Across the walnuts and the wine.
In after-dinner talk,
Across the walnuts and the wine.
And what so tedious as a twice-told tale.
And what so tedious as a twice-told tale.
With a tale forsooth he cometh unto you, with a tale which
holdeth children from play, and old men read more
With a tale forsooth he cometh unto you, with a tale which
holdeth children from play, and old men from the chimney corner.
If a nation loses its storytellers, it loses its childhood.
If a nation loses its storytellers, it loses its childhood.
I cannot tell how the truth may be;
I say the tale as 'twas said to me.
I cannot tell how the truth may be;
I say the tale as 'twas said to me.
Soft as some song divine, thy story flows.
Soft as some song divine, thy story flows.
