For I have ever bene, of a lyttell whelpe, B ii
So full of fansyes, and in so many fyttes,
So many smale reasons, and in so many wyttes,
That, even as I stande, I pray God I be dede,
If ever I thought them all mete for one hede. 305
But syns I have one hed more then I knew,
Blame not my rejoycynge,—I love all thinges new.
And suer it is a treasour of heddes to have store:
One feate can I now that I never coude before.
Gentylman. What is that?