Classic Poem

No haste but good , where wisdome makes the waye,
For profe whereof, behold the simple snayle,
(Who sees the souldiers carcasse caste a waye,
With hotte assaulte the Castle to assayle,)
By line and leysure clymes the loftye wall,
And winnes the turrettes toppe more conningly,
Than doughtye Dick, who loste his life and all,
With hoysting up his head to hastilye.
The swiftest bitche brings foorth the blyndest whelpes,
The hottest Fevers coldest crampes ensue,
The nakedst neede hathe over latest helpes:
With Nevyle then I finde this proverbe true,
That haste makes waste , and therefore still I saye,
No haste but good , where wisdome makes the waye.
Sic tuli