The two lines that close each stanza are from a song in Sidney’s “Arcadia.”
Page [37]. “Who, known to all, unknown to himself dies.” From Seneca’s “Thyestes:”—
“qui notus nimis omnibus
Ignotus moritur sibi.”
Page [39]. “How many things.”—I have given four of John Maynard’s “Twelve Wonders of the World” (cf. pp. 44-5, 69); and, if I am not mistaken, the reader will like to see the remaining eight. There is much freshness and piquancy in these quaint old rhymes, which were written by no less a poet than Sir John Davies.
“The Divine.
Nor yield to sacrilege;
But like the kind true mother,
Rather will lose all the child
Than part it with another.
Much wealth I will not seek,
Nor worldly masters serve,
So to grow rich and fat
While my poor flock doth starve.
The Soldier.
Though Mars my master be,
I do not Venus love,
Nor honour Bacchus oft,
Nor often swear by Jove.
Of speaking of myself
I all occasion shun,
And rather love to do,
Than boast what I have done.