Beats back the flowing current of his blood,
And ebbs it in the very spring or floud,
’Tis harsh to hear a School boy in one tone
Repeat his lesson like a Bagpipes drone,
But it doth ravish with delight the ear
Well worded and sweet languag’d lines to hear,
Pronounc’d by one hath skill and art to know
When he should raise his voyce, when bring it low.
For though a Poet write good Lines, it is
The speaker that doth make them hit or miss.