RIDDLES. 63

RIDDLE CXXXI.
"THOUGH learning hath fed me, I know not a letter;

I live among books, yet am never the better;
Each muse I digest, yet I know not a line:
What student I am, I beg you'll divine.

 

RIDDLE CXXXIL.

"THOUGH unknown to all senses, except to the sight,
Yet existence I claim by excluding the light.

RIDDLE CXXXIII.

ADAM my parent was,—tis very true,

And yet, what’s strange, I always am with you;
With insects, birds, and beasts—indeed, what not?
What’s more, my use is telling what is what.

 

RIDDLE CXXXIV.

PPHERE was a man who was not born,
His father was not before him;
He did not live, he did not die,
And his epitaph is not o’er him.