MORE FOOLS yet. Written by R. S.  
AT LONDON, Printed for Thomas Castleton, and are to be sold at his shop without Cripplegate. An. 1610.   

To the Reader.  
Time's Ministers have often drawn the features,  
Of many vild, obscene, illiterate creatures;  
Even till the pencils they portrayed withal,  
Had spent all colours, now they write with gall.  
(Seeing those fairer shapes were not respected)  
Thereby to make vice loathed and rejected:  
Yet notwithstanding mark man's impudence,  
See yonder villain, who for his offence  
Did merit death; yet pardoned swiftly flies,  
To act more dammed and horrid villainies.  
Note that Adulterer which seems sorry now,  
And with afained sanctimonious vow  
Abjures his sin, yet more his soul to blame,  
With's neighbour's wife next day commits the same.  
The Usurer by scripture reprehended,  
Weeps and is sorry that he hath offended:  
Yet as the diucll will have it he is drawn,  
Immediately from's book to take a pawn.  
Behold that impious Thief that lately swore,  
To make his godless stock but twenty more;  
And then to leave his rude and ruthless dealing,  
But he'll behanged before he'll leave his stealing.  
And multitudes of such like impious slaves,  
Which labour for to purchase their soul's graves:  
Are oft determined to for sake their sin,  
And when the devil please, they will begin.  
But not till then, let justice do her worst,  
Such is the will of villains (most accursed:)  
Therefore since mild per suasion cannot move them;  
(Nor reprehension, whosoe'er reprove them,  
Nor Laws severity, nor justice sword)  
I will not (to reclaim them) wast a word.  
Nor will I tax their vice, because I see  
They will persist in spite of you or me:  
And so I leave them to their damned rules,  
I will not deal with villains, but with fools.  
Roger Sharp.   

More Fools yet.  

loves Metamorphosis.  
OHcryes kind Dolus  
if she hate my feature,  
Sweet Cupid turn me  
to some other creature.  
Make me a Bull like jove, if that may pass;  
Or let me be an Horse as Neptune was:  
Or like to Mercury a Goat i'll be,  
If such a shape will please so fair as she.  
Love was attentive to his imprecation,  
And quickly thought upon some transformation.  
And in a moment rising from his stool,  
Transformed him to a creature called a Foole.   

A thrifty Gallant.  
Faugh cries spruce Curio what a smell is here,  
As if some house of Office troubled were?  
Is there some foisting Spaniel in the room,  
Or is it pestered by some stable Groom.  
There's some thing putrefied, search round about.  
O tarry, tarry, I have smelled it out:  
It is my suit, the Satin is impure,  
Or else my tailors hands were nasty sure.  
I must expel this scent with some perfume,  
Counsel me sirs, your judgements may presume:  
Why then says one, I think a Sivit best,  
No says another 'twill atract the pest:  
Why then that powder which your Sempsters sells,  
Come you are fools I will have something else.  
There is a kind of sweet your broker's use,  
'tis that alone i'll take, the rest refuse:  
For that effectual is, and of such power,  
'twill purge a stinking garment in an hour.  
Moreover 'tis a scent of honest thrift,  
And many Gallants use it for a shift:  
Therefore to frugal be and win repute,  
To Lavender he doth commit his suit.   

A confident Cuckold.  
YOu wrong Zelopio to repute him so,  
Tell me that he is jealous, faith sir no:  
He will permit his wise to see a play,  
And let her drink with Captains by the way.  
Will give her leave to walk to Westminster,  
To see the Tombs and monuments are there:  
Will suffer her to drink and stay out late,  
To be led home by each associate.  
This proves him confident, and which is more,  
When his wife knocks, himself will look to the door:  
But wot you why Zelopio seems content,  
She keeps the house, keeps him, & pays the rent.   

A variable humorist.  
THe humour of Muander is most strange.  
he's still extreme, and nothing makes him change:  
To day he is accoutred like your knight,  
To morrow like a stalking broom-man right.  
He wears a suit to day that's cut and slashed,  
To morrow one slit on a shirt near washed.  
Now he's extremely merry, and anon  
He proves a Timon, all his mirth is gone:  
Will you of his extremes the reason know,  
His Love, as well as Fortune, is his foe.   

A wondrous travailer.  
WOnders most admirable you shall hear,  
If you with patience will permit your ear:  
That travailer (believe him if you please)  
Swears he hath been beyond Th'antipodes.  
And that he travailed hath the Orbs throughout,  
And with his hand hath turned the Moon about:  
And to approve his courage could not fail,  
He took the horrid Dragon by the tail.  
And which is more, he swears by all the gods,  
He challengd Mars to fight, and give him odds.  
All this he hath performed he verifies it,  
And he will kill the peasant that denies it.  
Moreover now he means with expedition,  
To travail down into the lower Region.  
Do sir I pray you, and to Pluto tell  
These novelties, and bring us news from hell.   

A familiar Tobacconist.  
signor snuff that rare Tobacconist,  
Who many a whiff hath to the air dismissed,  
Doth oft frequent apothecary's shops,  
To minister Tobacco to his slops.  
And to the smoake-monger this speech he bends,  
Sir gives the best, as far as this extends.  
Showing a groat which he on's gloves did borrow,  
With dam him if he paid it not to morrow.  
Tush i'll have none of your low valued trash,  
Reserve it for your gulls, or those want cash.  
Give me of your rich leaf, or by this light  
You shall expulse me and my custom quite:  
So you respect me now, a pipe I pray,  
I'll none of that, reach one of Snells I say.  
Y'are paid, farewell. Adieu penurious ass,  
That doth thy substance into vapour pass:  
Such is thy fate, if could thou'lt pawn thy cloak,  
To warm thee by tobacco's fire and smoke.   

Anger soon appeased.  
WHen john Cornutus doth his wife reprove,  
For being false and faithless in her love:  
His wise to smooth those wrinkles on his brow,  
Doth stop his mouth, with john come kiss me now.   

A woman hater.  
MI soginos that lately loved a wench,  
Wisheth them now the torture of the French:  
Let me not live (saith he) men are befoolde,  
In being by such creatures over-rulde.  
What can a man discern in such a creature,  
A little paltry beauty, form, and feature:  
Which is but trash of no pre-eminence,  
Then why is't powerful to distract your sense?  
Tell me what women are, that you adore them,  
Surely nought, being so you should abhor them:  
What virtues have they which do merit praise,  
As many as this week hath Christmas days.  
What qualities, inconstancy, and pride,  
Still in lascivious actions occupied.  
O peace Misoginos, why dost thou wrong them?  
Thou wilt commend them when thou at among them  
But will you know how this his hate was bred,  
A wench in Turnbull-street did break his head.   

In Criticum.  
NOw Criticus doth summon all his wit,  
And with the title says there's more fools yet:  
(Quoth he) these asses are not left alone,  
The Author makes the number more by one.  
Thus Criticus will censure and correct,  
Calumniate, detract without respect:  
Afford the fool to all, O that may be,  
For none can show a fool so well as he.   

A bare conceit●.  
Such ill success last night had Ned at play,  
That no man can discover him to day:  
No marvel sir he keeps him from the light,  
He was discovered to the skin last night.   

An arrogant fool.  
Gross and il-tutored fellow, why wert thou  
elected here? each rascal now  
Will with a Gentleman familiar be:  
Forgetting difference twixt each degree.  
I'll pay you sirrah, what's upon my score?  
I will abjure this house for evermore.  
Good Master Insolence, sir hold your tongue,  
The slave doth practise still to do me wrong.  
Master; you ill-taught rascal do me right,  
Know that this month & more I have been knight:  
Yet you as ignorant of what I am,  
Entitle me like each mechanic flame.  
In troth sir, my rude ignorance doth grieve me,  
I took you for a Gentleman believe me:  
Pardon my error, may I so implore,  
I'll take you for a Gentleman no more.   

A kind young man.  
YOung jasper once led an impure life,  
But now he is converted by a wife:  
An antic of some threescore years & ten,  
Hath jasper snatched from many richer men:  
Not that he loves her, but he deems her trash,  
Only he marries her to gain her cash.  
Which cash of hers (being possessed with store)  
Shall keep his wench, which wench kept him before.   

Captain Nynnie.  
Brave Magnaninny sways in Turnbull-street,  
Commands the whores be prostrate at his feet:  
Fetch me some wine you bawd & shut the door,  
Come hither varlet, where's the other whore?  
she's gone to the Tavern, is she, fetch her home,  
Tell her from me, i'll baste her and her groom:  
Here's a dammed crew indeed, 'sblood who am I,  
I must be fain to thrash you by and by.  
Thus Magnaninny bravely domineers,  
Breaks Looking-glasses, and Rabatoes tears,  
Slits Coverlets and Curtains, burns their hair:  
For which the punks conspire to shave him bare:  
And in a moment so to quit this cullian,  
They fire him from the confines of Turnbullian.   

In Libidinosum.  
A penitent venerist.  
LAst night Libidinosus rashly went  
Unto a wench lose, and incontinent:  
To whom he did participate that evil,  
Which did possess him like an eager devil.  
But now Libidinosus is contrite,  
And sorry for his rashness over night:  
And doth protest (will God remit his crime,)  
he'll deem a whore as men do dross & slime.  
You may believe him, he determines so,  
For dross is good enough for swine you know.   

A quarrel well answered.  
PRay you dissuade me not, you do me wrong  
Thus to detain me from revenge so long:  
Throw water in my shoes and run away,  
Gross injury, firrha come forth I say.  
Wilt thou come forth, do and here I swear,  
For this abuse i'll give thee a box a'the ear:  
Thanks quoth the fellow, but be it known to you,  
I'll not come forth if you would give me two.   

A rare man in action.  
But why doth Frivolus that active squire,  
(Having abjured the Tennis-court) retire  
Again unto that sport, is't for his pleasure,  
Or to recover there some spending treasure  
Or is it that his humour verifies  
It is a Gentlemanlike exercise:  
Or may it be as some perhaps may brute,  
There to discover his new Satin suit.  
No sir you misconiecture his intent,  
For none of these, the sport he doth frequent:  
But if you'll know the truth, sir understand  
He comes to show the wonders of his hand.  
How that by force of arm and Tennis-ball,  
To admiration he untopt the wall:  
He is no vulgar fellow in his tricks,  
Where others bandy Balls, he bandies Bricks.  
And he is thither drawn by one thing more,  
For to augment his credit on the score.   

A great observer.  
WIll you of Vinolentus gladly know  
Why he is drunk, this reason he will show:  
Because those fashions he'll observe and see,  
In his associates as drunk as he.  
Will you like wise inquire (when he is drunk)  
Why he doth range the purleys for a punk:  
He will resolve you thus, for to descry  
A whore in fashion and in quality.  
But Vinolentus tell the truth for shame,  
And do not more pollute thy hateful name:  
Thou art not drunk each humour to behold,  
But thou art drunk to make thy vice more bold.  
Thou dost not visit whores to note their fashions,  
But to be deeply known in their transgressions:  
Well, drink, be drunk, proceed & catch the Fox,  
Hunt all the purleyes over for the P.   

An accomplished Gallant.  
Poor Tom goes barely, his best suit is priest  
To be forth coming in a Broker's chest:  
And ask you Thomas why he goes so bare,  
He answers you, for pride he doth not care:  
Moreover Satin suits he doth compare,  
Unto the service of a Barber's chair:  
As fit for every lack and journeyman,  
As for a knight, or worthy Gentleman.  
And therefore swears poor Tom, I scorn it I,  
To imitate such vulgar rascaldry:  
But by and by when fortune 'gins to fawn,  
The Gentleman redeems his suit from pawn.  
And now abjures those rags for evermore,  
Which but as yesterday his worship wore:  
And ask him now the reason of this change,  
And why he is transformed thus so strange:  
He answers you'tis base, and much rejected,  
To be a gentleman and not respected.  
Rich habits cause each vassal be esteemed,  
When rags make Gentlemen be vassals deemed:  
Now sir because he's generous, therefore  
He scorns to be attired like a Boar.  
Thus Tom penurious doth excuse his rags,  
And if reformed, scorns beggary with brags.   

A provident whoremaster.  
Lupurioso to compass his desire,  
Makes his wench drunk, if you the cause inquire,  
He hath a filthy face, his nose is shrunk,  
And's wench would loath him if she were not drunk.   

A convertite.  
STrangely addicted now is Brut us found,  
He doth suppose the world is at an end:  
He will not drink not ramble foot of ground,  
Nor take a pipe neither with foe nor friend.  
He me ditates on heaven, no'tis not so,  
Another place he thinks on which is low:  
O'tis his purse which near doth measure keep,  
He cannot reach a penny 'tis so deep.   

In Rusticum.  
A charitable Glowne.  
RVsticus an honest country Swain,  
Whose education simple was, and plain:  
Having surveyed the City round about,  
Emptied his purse, and so went trudging out.  
But by the way he saw, and much respected,  
A door belonging to a house infected:  
Whereon was placed (as ' 'tis the custom still)  
Lord have mercy upon us, this sad Bill  
The sot perused, and having read, he swore  
All London was ungodly, but that door.  
Here dwells some virtue, yet says he, for this  
A most devout religious saying is:  
And thus he wished (with putting off his Hat)  
That every door had such a Bill as that.   

A well affected lover.  
MY Rose saith Amorosus, is the flower  
Of all her sex, her beauty hath the power:  
To stir affection in a dying creature,  
No female Europe yields equals her feature.  
True Amorosus she's a flower indeed,  
But scents more rank than doth the stinkingst weed,  
She grows i'the Garden Allies all the year,  
But differs from most flowers that appear:  
For in the spring when many flowers flourish,  
She hides her head, the spring her pride doth perish.   

An absolute Gallant.  
IF you will see true valour here displayed,  
Hear Poliphemus, and be not afraid:  
Dee see me wronged & will you thus restrain me,  
Sir let me go, or by these hilts i'll brain ye.  
Shall a base patch with such appearance wrong me?  
I'll kill the villain, pray do not prolong me:  
Call my Tobacco putrefied stuff,  
Tell me it stinks, say it is dross, I snuff.  
Sirrah, what are you? why sir what would you,  
I am a apprentice, and will knock you to:  
O are you so, I cry you mercy then,  
I am to fight with none but Gentlemen.   

monsieur the Englishman.  
NOte the industry of our gallant here,  
Which imitates all fashions that appear:  
Th'Italian, Spanish, Dutch, o but the French  
Especially, he follows to an inch.  
His Garters, Roses, all befrindged with gold,  
Were made in France, & by a Frenchman sold:  
His suit (so quaintly wrought) is truly said,  
To be byth' Frenchman at the Friars made.  
His ruff is likewise french, and's Beaver too,  
Sir, all is French he wears, be it known to you:  
Yet notwithstanding this our gallant swears,  
The world's deceived, there's nothing French he wears.  
Yet it appears most plainly to his face,  
His Note is frenchified, a small disgrace:  
But how ridiculous is he and vain,  
To be so proud and have aface so plain.   

Self do, self have.  
CRedus affirms, his wife and he are one,  
They are both formed of equal flesh & bone:  
And being one, their natures cannot vary,  
Credo is circumspect, his wife as wary.  
But he cornuted is, pray who did that,  
If's wife, then Credo did consent that's flat.   

A penitent drunkard.  
WHen Will is drunk, he is obsequiously  
Devoted to his prayers, doth weep & cry:  
Sighs and is sorry for his acted sin,  
And will a new and virtuous life begin.  
But when religious Will hath left the pot,  
His zeal grows cold, his prayers are quite forgot:  
Then why is drunkenness entitled sin,  
When Will doth always pray when he is in.   

A fellow all wit, or wit all.  
I Pray you give attention and be mute,  
Here comes old Sponge the Barber with his Lute:  
Give him his lap, and let him (gratis) feed,  
And he's your Fiddler till his fingers bleed.  
But hark you sir, he hath a wife I think,  
True sir she takes Tobacco, and will drink  
Carouses with a Dutchman while he'll stand,  
Will swear with any ruffian in the land.  
Will give the lie to any Captain too,  
Then she'll be stabbed, sir what is that to you:  
Yet she is virtuous sponge, her husband swears,  
And lives as chaste as Diana for her ears.  
For should she (as he'll tell you) tread awry,  
he'd slit her nose for her impurity:  
But's tongue goes false, as any tongue may trip.  
Thrice in afternoon he knew her slip.    

¶ Fortune favours Fools.  

A Skippe-iacke.  
HEre comes a fellow of a light vocation,  
(Perhaps an usher of a dancing school:)  
Who was maintained by some of occupation,  
Doth now maintain a lackey, and a fool.  
Fortune affects his art, and loves him too,  
For what I pray? that which a Horse can do.   

A fiddler.  
ANother there in form as light as he,  
Who lived by airs (though not chameleon like:)  
Doth now contemn his primitive degree,  
And scorns his finger should a viol strike.  
Fortune be thanked (and his chanting tongue)  
That gave him living only for a song.   

In Flaccium.  
A tried Friend.  
FLaccus is dry, and doth request his friend  
To satisfy his thirsty appetite:  
His Friend hath now great business to attend,  
And swears he cannot tarry by that light.  
Flaccus is drunk, and meets his friend again,  
And now forsooth his friend bestows the wine:  
Flaccus receives it and his senses bane,  
Shows apish tricks, then imitates the swine:  
O you forget yourself, true sir I do,  
I knew myself until disguised by you:  
I loved you once, here after i'll despise ye,  
Because you'll glut me, rather than suffice me.   

Better late than never.  
BRiscus will turn good husband, marry fie,  
What wench is't tush lose bodied Margery:  
Good husband now, that near was good in's life,  
The better husband sir, the worse wife.   

In Spumosum.  
A fine tongued Suitor.  
SPumosus courts his wench, & thus doth prate,  
Adorned, polished, and immaculate:  
Repugn me not, but let thy lenity,  
Extend to me as to propinquity.  
Sweet, be propitious, not inexorable,  
Thy Amorosus is inviolable:  
And will persever with iucunditie,  
Till I descend my hopes profundity.  
Sir, quoth his wench, believe me if you can,  
I'll marry none except an Englishman:  
If you are, as you seem not by your speeches,  
Reserve your Fustian for to patch your breeches.   

Tom tell troth.  
MY love saith Tristram is as constant sure,  
As is the Moon, Diana, chaste and pure:  
Credit his words, assured true they be,  
The Moon doth change each month, and so doth she.   

In Fatuum.  
A fool for company.  
FAtuus will drink with no such ass,  
That lets his jests (unapprehended) pass:  
Or if he jest with such of shallow brain,  
He laughs himself to make his jest more plain.  
Thus Fatuus doth jest and play the sany  
To laugh at's self, he's fool if there be any.  
DOleus shows his purse and tells you this,  
It is more horrid than a pest-house is:  
For in a pest-house many mortals enter,  
But in his purse an angel dares not venture.  
So to declare th'infection for his sin,  
A cross is set without, there's none within.   

In Fabulosum.  
MY word (swears Fabulus) can now be ta'en  
For all the suits that are in Birchin lane●  
Yet notwithstanding he doth scorn to wear,  
The quaintest suit of Satin that is there.  
Lilkewise he can without or bond or bill,  
Take up of any Scrivener what he will:  
Yet doth he scorn to be obliged to such,  
Whose imperfections any pen can touch.  
As for his diet, Vintners do request  
He would vouchsafe to be their daily guest:  
And swears he may command more wine a'the score,  
Then will make drunk 3 thousand men & more.  
Yet doth he scorn now by fair Phoebus' shine,  
To be indebted for a cup of wine:  
But Fabulus you lie, else why goest bare,  
Why penniless, why dost thou hardly fare  
If such would trust thee? trust thee, no not these,  
For clout, for cross, for pennyworth of cheese.   

In Furiosum.  
PRay you give place to Furiosus there,  
Whose ireful looks presage that he will swear,  
What's he that dares deny to pledge his health,  
Or he that will not lend him half his wealth:  
Let him but see that man will say his sprite  
Shall equal his, he'll kill him by that light:  
But where are these huge words & blows so darted?  
Faith in a Tavern where he may be parted.   

A second Diogenes.  
BEcause Diogenes on roots did feed,  
Philosophaster turns Diogenes:  
Observes his diet, and doth still proceed  
To imitate that Cynics bitterness.  
Calls each man knave he meets, but be it known,  
That title he doth give them, is his own.  
Why doth he feed on roots continually?  
Faith will you know, it is the cheapest diet:  
Why doth he tax man's vice so bitterly?  
Because the world should judge he doth defy it.  
Well this Philosopher deserves reward,  
Let him be judged by john in Paul's churchyard.   

A warm argument.  
Love is a fire, so some Poet's rumour,  
And women are the attorneys where it flameth:  
If so it be, I care not for loves humour,  
Nor will I harbour there where Venus gameth.  
And women (meaning none but you so hot)  
Your chimney corners shall be quite forgot.   

In Credulum.  
I'll not believe that fellow that will swear  
He led an eager Lion by the ear.  
Nor he that will affirm and rashly prate,  
He bodily pissed at Pontius pilate's gate:  
But him I credit that will justly say,  
He did (at midnight) by the sunshine play.   

In Virosum.  
HOw Falstafe like, doth swelled Virosus look,  
As though his paunch did foster every sin:  
And swears he is injured by this book,  
His worth is taxed he hath abused been:  
Swell still Virosus, burst with emulation,  
I neither tax thy vice nor reputation.   

The Conclusion.  
Pack hence ye idle zanies of this age,  
Illiterate fools, fit subjects for each stage:  
And do not murmur though your coats are course,  
They are too good for fools if they were worse.  
FINIS.