The cream of curiosity, being an account of certain historical and literary manuscripts of the XVIIth, XVIIIth & XIXth centuries . nall felicitie leaveth himyet here still in the worlde further to be plunged andmoyled with miserie. Of Mores Last Verses As soon as Mr. Secretariewas gone he wrote witha coale, for inke then had he none, these versesfoUowinge: 38 Sir Thomas More Fie flattcringe fortune, looke thou never so fayreNor never so pleasauntlye beginne to smileAs thoughe thou wouldst my ruine all repayre,Duringe my life thou shalt not me beguile :Trust shall I god to enter in a whileHis h
The cream of curiosity, being an account of certain historical and literary manuscripts of the XVIIth, XVIIIth & XIXth centuries . nall felicitie leaveth himyet here still in the worlde further to be plunged andmoyled with miserie. Of Mores Last Verses As soon as Mr. Secretariewas gone he wrote witha coale, for inke then had he none, these versesfoUowinge: 38 Sir Thomas More Fie flattcringe fortune, looke thou never so fayreNor never so pleasauntlye beginne to smileAs thoughe thou wouldst my ruine all repayre,Duringe my life thou shalt not me beguile :Trust shall I god to enter in a whileHis heaven of heaven sure and uniforme ;Ever after this calme looke I for a storme . Yea three years before this he shewed in certayneLatin verses that he elegantly made but not yetprinted, in which he properly and wittilie alludethto his name that he had litle hope of his continuancein this transitorie life and how hee prepared himselfto the other eternall and everlastinge life: Moraris si sit spes hie tibi longa viorariHoc te vel morus more monere potestDesine morari, et coelo meditate morariHoc te vel morus more monere JOHN MOORE, HIS BOOKE THE COMMONPLACE BOOK OF JOHNMOORE {fo Clifford Bax) AMONG the manuscripts which I havegathered into my library from time totime there is one which I am often readingover again, one which I cherish more than the I purpose to set down here some record of thegood things it contains, because I would like toshare them with those into whose hands so long as Ilive this manuscript can never come. It has no title, and deals with nothing definitewhatsoever by way of subject. It obeys no orderand has no limitation either of rhyme or reason. Itis in several hands and the writing goes without anyseeming will or purpose of its own, wanderinganywhere and anyhow, upwards, downwards, andsideways, and once at least in a circle. It is theoddest of odd books, and, if one should seek to givea title to it, one could find none better I think thanth
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