O ivory thou, the golden scythe hath mown
Night’s stubble and my joy. Thou royal souled,
Favour the quest! Lo, Truth and I have sought thee
“To see a strange outlandish fowl,
A quaint baboon, an ape, an owl,
A dancing bear, a giant’s bone,
A foolish engine move alone,
A morris-dance, a puppet-play,
Mad Tom to sing a roundelay,
A woman dancing on a rope,
Bull-baiting also at the Hope,
A rhymer’s jest, a juggler’s cheats,
A tumbler showing cunning feats,
Or players acting on the stage—
There goes the bounty of our age:
But unto any pious notion,
There’s little coin and less devotion.”
Henry Farley | “The Voice of Ardent Zeal Speaks from the Lollard’s Tower of St. Paul’s”