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Poem by George Gascoigne
Sonnet 3. And every year a world my will did deem
And every year a world my will did deem, Till lo! at last, to Court now am I come, A seemly swain that might the place beseem, A gladsome guest embraced by all and some. Not there content with common dignity, My wandering eye in haste (yea post post haste) Beheld the blazing badge of bravery, For want whereof I thought myself disgraced. Then peevish pride puffed up my swelling heart, To further forth so hot an enterprise; And comely cost began to play his part In praising patterns of mine own devise. Thus all was good and might be got in haste, To prink me up, and make me higher placed.
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