That will not be deep-search'd with saucy looks;
Small have continual plodders ever won,
Save base authority from others' books.
These earthly godfathers of Heaven's lights
That give a name to every fixed star,
Have no more profit of their shuning nights
Than those that walk and wot not what they are." 84
"Assist me some extemporal god of rime, for I am sure
I shall turn sonneter. Devise, wit; write, pen; for I am for whole volumes in folio."
[192]
"He hath not fed of the dainties that are bred in a book;
he hath not eat paper, as it were; he hath not drunk
ink." IV.ii [25]
~ Shakespeare, Wm. (1564 - 1616) Love's Labour Lost
