Esther M. Zimmer Lederberg
George Gascoigne, 1539-1577: Sonnet VI
For why? the gaines doth seldome quitte ye charge,
And so saye I, by proofe too dearely bought,
My haste mad wast, my brave and brainsicke barge,
Did float too fast, to catch a thing of naught :
With leasure, measure, meane, and many mo,
I mought have kept a chayre of quiet state,
But hastie heads cannot bee setled so,
Till croked Fortune gave a crabbed mate:
As busie braynes muste beaet on tickle toyes,
As rashe invention breedes a rawe devise,
So sudayne falles doe hinder hastie joyes,
And as swifte baytes doe fleetest fyshe entice.
So haste makes waste, and therefore nowe I saye,
No haste but good, where wisdome makes the waye.
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