RECREATION FOR Ingenious Head-pieces.  
OR, A Pleasant Grove FOR THEIR WITS TO WALK IN.  

Of Epigrams, 700.  
Of Epitaphs, 200.  
Of Fancies, a number.  
Of Fantastics, abundance.   
With their Addition, Multiplication, and Division.  Marr. 
Non cuique datur habere nasum.  
LONDON, Printed by M: Simmons, in Aldersgate-Street. 1654.   

WITT'S RECREATIONS refined Augmented, with Ingenious CONCEITS for the witty, And Merry Medicines for the Melancholy.  
See the next Page.  
Printed by M.S. sold by Edw: Archer in Little Britain. 1654.   

Ad Lectorem.  
THis little Book is like a furnish Feast;  
And hath a dish, I hope, to please each guest.  
Here thou may'st find some good and solid fare;  
If thou lov'st pleasant junkets, here they are;  
Perhaps sh●rp sauces take thee most; if so,  
I have Cook for thee some sharp sauces too;  
But if thy squeamish stomach can like none,  
No body hinders thee, thou may'st be gone.   

The Stationer to the Reader.  
IF new, or old wit, please the Reader best,  
I've hope, each man of wit, will be our Guest  
The new, was framed to humour some men's taste▪  
Which if they like not, they may carve the last▪  
Each dish hath sauce belongs to't; and you wil●  
By your dislike, censure the Author's skill;  
Yet if you cannot speak well of it, spare  
To utter your dislike, that the like snare  
May entrap o●hers; so the Book may be  
Sold, though not liked▪ by a neat fallacy:  
That's all I ask, yet 'twill your goodness raise,  
If as I gain your coin, he may your praise.   

EPIGRAMS.  

1. To the Reader.  
EXcuse me Reader, though I now and than,  
In some light lines, do show myself a man;  
Nor be so sour, some wanton words to blame,  
They are the language of an Epigram.   

2. On Battus.  
Battus doth brag he hath a world of Books,  
His Studies maw holds more than well it may,  
But seld ' or never, he upon them looks,  
And yet he looks upon them every day.  
He looks upon their outside, but within  
He never looks, nor never will begin.   

3. On Prue.  
Prues nose hangs down so low, one would suppose  
When ere she gapes, that Prue would eat her nose.   

4. To Gripe.  
Gripe keeps his coin well, and his heaps are great,  
For which he seems wise in his own conceit;  
Be not deceived Gripe, for aught I can see,  
Thy bags in this sense are as wise as thee.   

5. On Man and Woman.  
When man and Woman dies, as Poets sung,  
His heart's the last that stirs, of hers the tongue.   

6. On Woman's will.  
How dearly doth the honest husband buy  
His wife's defect of will when she doth die?  
Better in death by will to let her give,  
Then let her have her will while she doth live.   

7. Spangle the spruce Gal:  
Spruce Spangles like to a Cinnamon Tree;  
His outside is of much more worth than he.   

8. Chaerilus.  
Eat Toast and Oil, eat supple herbs and loose,  
For thou look'st wondrous costive Chaerilus.   

9 In Paulum.  
By lawful Mart, and by unlawful stealth,  
P●ulus from th'Ocean hath derived much wealth:  
But on the Land, a little gulf there is,  
Wherein he drowneth all that wealth of his.   

10. Vestitus peritus.  
Clitus goes oft time clad in Suits of Scarlet,  
That else no colour had to play the Varlet.   

11. Of Poetus.  
Poetus with fine Sonnets painted forth  
This and that foul Lady's beauties worth:  
He shows small wit therein, and for his pains,  
By my consent, he never shall reap gain●;  
Why, what needs Poets paint them, O sweet Elves!  
When Ladies paint their beauty's best themselves.   

12. Of Shift the Sharker.  
Shift swears he keeps none but good company,  
For, though theyare such as he did never see,  
Worse than himself he's sure they cannot be.   

13. On an Upstart.  
Pray wrong not (late coined) give the man his right,  
He's made a Gentleman although no Knight,  
For now 'tis clothes the Gentleman doth make,  
Men from gay clothes their pedigrees do take;  
But wot you what's the arms to such men's house?  
Why this— hands chancing of a Rampant Louse.   

14. Volens Nolens.  
Will with provisio wills you testify,  
Has made his will, but hath no will to die.   

15. Ad Clodium.  
Wit, once thou saidst was worth thy weight in gold,  
Though nowed be common for a trifle sold;  
It dearer seems to thee that gettest not any,  
(When thou shouldst use it) for thy love or money.   

16. In Getam.  
Geta from wool and weaving first began,  
Swelling and swelling to a Gentleman;  
When he was Gentleman and bravely dight,  
He left not swelling till he was a Knight:  
At last (forgetting what he was at first)  
He swelled to be a Lord, and then he burst.   

17. To Emson.  
Emson thou once in Dutch wouldst court a wench,  
But to thy cost she answered thee in French.   

18. In Fimum.  
Fimus is Coached, and for his farther grace  
Doth a●k his friends how he becomes the place;  
Troth I should tell him, the poor coach hath wrong  
And that a Cart would serve to carry dung.   

19 In Flaccum.  
The false knave Flaccus once a bribe I gave;  
The more fool I, to bribe so false a knave:  
But he gave back my bribe, the more fool he,  
That for my folly did not cousin me.   

20. Of women's naked breasts.  
In open shop● flies often blow that flesh,  
Which in close safer might be kept longer fresh.  
They but invite fleshflies, whose full spread pap●  
Like road ways lie between their lips and laps.   

21. On Morcho.  
Morcho for haste was married in the night,  
What needed day? his fair young wife is light.   

22. On a Bragadocio.  
Don Lollus brags, he comes from Noble blood,  
Drawn down from Brutus' line; 'tis very good,  
If this praiseworthy be, each Flea may then,  
Boast of his blood more than some Gentlemen.   

23. Eden's vomens.  
Cacus that sups so duly at the Rose,  
Casts up the reckoning truly ere he goes.   

24. On a Pump stopped with stones.  
M. I'll cut it down, I swear by this same hand,  
If 'twill not run, it shall no longer stand.  
R. Pray Sir be patient, let your Pump alone,  
How can it water make when't hath the stone?  
Yet did he wisely when he did it fell.  
For in so doing he did make it well.   

25. Of Prittle-prattle.  
Though th'danger be not great, of all tame cattle,  
Yet the most troublesome is Prittle-prattle.   

26. In Aulum.  
Thou still art muttering Aulus in mine ear,  
Love me and love my Dog: I will I swear,  
Thou ask'st but right; and Aulus, truth to tell,  
I think thy Dog deserves my love as well.   

27. Ad Tilenum.  
Tilens ' cause thouart old, fly not the field,  
Where youthful Cupid doth his b●nner wield;  
For why? this god, old men his Soldiers styled;  
None loves but he who hath been twice a Child.   

28. To Vellius.  
Thou swearest I bowl as well as most men do,  
The most are bunglers, therein thou sayest true.   

29. Three Genders.  
A wife although most wise and chaste,  
is of the Doubtful Gender;  
A Quean o'th' Common: Feminines,  
are Women small and tender.   

30. Of Brawl.  
Brawl loveth brabbling, as he loves his life,  
Leave him for dead, when he leaves stirring strife.   

31. In Paulum.  
Paul, what my cloak doth hide thou fain wouldst know,  
Were't to be seen I would not covered so.   

32. Of sleep and death.  
That death is but a sleep I not deny,  
Yet when I next would sleep, I would not die.   

33. Upon Methusus.  
Methusus asked me why I called him sot,  
I answer made, because he loved the pot,  
For while Methusus busy is with it,  
The fool I'm sure's as busy with his wit.   

34. On Thraso.  
Thraso goes lame with blows he did receive  
In a late duel, if you'll him believe.   

35. News.  
When News doth come, if any would discuss  
The Letter of the word, resolve it thus:  
News is conveyed by letter, word, or mouth,  
And comes to us from North, East, West, and South.   

36. Of Rufus.  
Rufus had robbed his Host, and being put to it,  
Said, I am an arrant rogue if I did do it.   

37. Of Marcus.  
When Marcus failed, a borrowed sum to pay,  
Unto his friend at the appointed day;  
'twere superstition for a man, he says,  
To be a strict observer of set days.   

38. Of a Thief.  
A thief arrested, and in custody  
Under strong guards of armed company,  
Asked why they held him so; Sir, quoth the chief,  
We hold you for none other than a thief.   

39 Of Motion.  
Motion brings heat, and thus we see it proved,  
Most men are hot and angry when they're moved.   

40. Formal the Fashionist.  
Formal all form and fashion is, for matter,  
Who says he sees it in him, doth but flatter;  
Open and search him, you shall quickly find  
With what course Canvas his soft silks are lined.   

41. Ad Scriptorem quend.  
Half of your Book is to an Index grown,  
You give your Book Contents, your Reader non●   

42. Riches.  
Gold's th'only God, Rich men bear rule,  
Money makes Majesty:  
Rich Pluto, not plain Plato now,  
Speaks with applause most high.   

43. On Sextus.  
Sextus doth wish his wife in Heaven were,  
Where can she have more happiness than there?   

45. Secreta nobis.  
Tassus from Temple-stairs by water goes,  
To Westminster, and back to Temple rows,  
Belike he loves not troth too much the street  
Or surbait on the stones his tender feet:  
Tut! come, there's something in't must not be known  
But Sir believe't, The debt is not his own.   

45. Of Text-corruptors.  
Bad Commentators spoil the best of Books,  
So God gives meat, (they say) the Devil sends Cook●▪   

46. On a Drawer drunk.  
Drawer with thee now even is thy Wine,  
For thou hast pierced his Hogshead, and he thine.   

47. Upon the weights of a Clock.  
I wonder time's so swift, when as I see,  
Upon her heels, such lumps of lead to be.   

48. On Cynna.  
Because I am not of a Giant's stature,  
Despise me no●, nor praise thy liberal nature,  
For thy huge limbs; that you are great, 'tis true,  
And that I'm little in respect of you:  
The reason of our growths is easily had,  
You, many had perchance; I but one Dad.   

49 On Alastrus.  
Alastrus hath nor coin, nor spirit, nor wit.  
I think he's only then for Bedlam ●it.   

50. Of Mendacio.  
Mendacio pretends to tell men News:  
And that it may be such, himself doth use  
To make it: but that will no longer need,  
Let him tell truth, it will be News indeed.   

51. On Landanno.  
Landanno in his gallant bravery,  
Ruffled his Silks, looked big, and thrust me by:  
And still as often as he meets me so,  
My homespun cloth must to the channel go.  
Advise thee well Landanno, children note,  
And fools admire thee for thy velvet coat:  
I keep (Landanno) in repute with such,  
As think they cannot scorn poor thee too much.  
But thou canst squire fine Madams, thou canst veil  
Thy Cap and Feather, cringe, and wag thy tail  
Most decently: Now by you stars that shi●e,  
So thou transcend'st me: Take the wall, 'tis thine.   

52. On Shanks.  
Shanks swears he fasts; and always cries for Beef:  
O how he fasts! that's how fast eats the Thief!   

53. Cito bene.  
Sir john at Matins prays he might dispatch,  
Who by true promise is to bowl a match.   

54. Of Pertinax.  
It will, it must, it shall be so,  
Saith Pertinax; but what's the reason trow?  
Nay, that I cannot tell, nor doth he know.   

55. To valiant Dammee.  
Dammee thy brain is valiant, 'tis confessed;  
Thou more, that with it every day dar'st jest  
Thyself into fresh brawls; but called upon,  
With swearing Dam, answerest every one.  
Keep thyself there, and think thy valour right,  
He that dares Damn himself, dares more than fight.   

56. On Cornuto.  
Cornuto is not jealous of his wife,  
Nor e'er mistrusts her too lascivious life,  
Ask him the reason why he doth forbear,  
he'll answer strait, it cometh with a fear.   

57 On a Shrew.  
A froward Shrew being blamed because she showed  
Not so much reverence as by right she owed  
Unto her Husband, she replied he might  
Forbear complaint of me, I do him right;  
His will is mine, he would bear rule, and I  
Desire the like, only in sympathy.   

58. Of Lawless.  
Lawless the worst times liketh best, why is't?  
Because than Lawless may do what he list.   

59 A rich Cur.  
Dru dares good men deprave because he's rich,  
Whether more fool or Knave, I know not which.   

60. On a Youth married to an Old Woman.  
A smooth-faced youth, what wedded to an old  
Decrepit Shrew! (such is the power of Gold)  
Thy fortune I dare tell; perchance thou'lt have  
At Supper dainties, but in B●d a grave.   

61. On a Fly in a glass.  
A Fly out of his glass a guest did take,  
ere with the liquor he his thirst would slake;  
When he had drunk his fill, again the Fly  
Into the glass he put, and said, though I  
Love not Flies in my drink, yet others may,  
Whose humour I nor like, nor will gainsay.   

62. On Collimus.  
If that Collimus any thing do lend,  
Or Dog, or Horse, or Hawk unto his friend,  
He to endear the borrowers love the more,  
Saith he ne'er ●ent it any one before,  
Nor would to any but to him: His wife  
Having observed these speeches all her life,  
Behind him forks her fingers, and doth cry,  
To none but you, I'd do this courtesy.   

63. To Loquax.  
Loquax, to hold thy tongue would do thee wrong,  
For thou wouldst be no man but for thy tongue.   

64. Good wits jump.  
Against a post a scholar chanced to strike  
At unawares his head; like will to like:  
Good wits will jump (quoth he:) if that be true,  
The title of a blockhead is his due.   

65. On women's Masks.  
It seems that Masks do women much disgrace,  
Sith when they wear them they do hide their face.   

66. Of Saucy the Intruder.  
Saucy, though uninvited, is so rude,  
As into every comp'ny to intrude;  
But he's no fit companion for any,  
Who all ways makes the number one too many.   

67. Upon a pair of Tongues.  
The burnt child dreads the fire; if this be true,  
Who first invented Tongues its fury knew.   

68 Lawyers and Soldiers.  
If Lawyers had for Term, a term of war,  
Soldiers would be as rich as Lawyers are;  
But here's the difference between Guns and Gowns,  
These take good Angels, th'other take cracked crowns.   

69. On Momus.  
Momus can call another fool, but he  
Can never make his brain and wit agree.   

70. Woman.  
A Woman is a Book, and often found  
To prove far better in the sheets then bound:  
No marvel then, why men take such delight  
Above all things to study in the night.   

71. Clitus cunning.  
Clitus the Barber doth Occasion fly,  
Because 'tis bald, and he gains nought thereby.   

72. Rich promises.  
Lords promise soon, but to perform are long,  
Then would their purse-strings were tied to their tongue.   

73. On Comptulus.  
I wondered Comptulus, how thy long hair,  
In comely curls could show so debonair,  
And every hair in order be, when as  
Thou couldst not trim it by a looking glass,  
Nor any Barber did thy tresses pleat;  
'Tis strange; but Monsieur I conceive the ●eat  
When you your hair do comb, you off it take,  
And order't as you please for fashion sake.   

74. On Gellius.  
In building of his house, Gellius hath spent  
All his revenues and his ancient rent,  
Ask not a reason, why Gellius is poor,  
His greater house hath turned him out of door.   

75. To Ponticus.  
At Supper time will Pon●u● visit me,  
I'd rather have his room then company;  
But if him, from me I can no ways fright,  
I'd have him visit me each fasting night.   

76. Balbus.  
Balbus a Verse on Venus' Boy doth scan,  
But ere 'twas finished Cupid's grown a man.   

77. On a Pot-Poet.  
What lofty verses Coelus writes? it is  
But when his head with wine oppressed is:  
So when great drops of rain fall from the skies  
In standing pools, huge bubbles will arise.   

78. On Onellus.  
Thou never supp'st abroad, Onellus, true,  
For at my home I'm sure to meet with you.   

79. Of professed Atheists.  
If even Devils themselves believe and tremble,  
Atheists professed methinks should but dissemble.   

80. To Termagant.  
My Termagant, as I have aught to save,  
I neither called thee fool, nor knave:  
That which I called thee is a thing well known,  
A trifle not worth thinking on:  
What I suppose thyself wilt easily grant,  
I called thee Cuckold, Termagant.   

81. On a Virtuous Talker.  
If virtue's always in thy mouth, how can  
It ere have time to reach thy heart, fond man?   

82. To Severus.  
Believe Severus, that in these my Rhymes  
I tax no person but the common Crimes.   

83. Upon Pigs devouring a bed of Pennyroyal, commonly called Organs.  
A good wife once a bed of Organs set,  
The Pigs came in and eat up every whit,  
The good man said, wife you your Garden may  
Hogs Norton call, here Pigs on Organs play.   

84. On Gubs.  
Gubs calls his children Kitlin: and would bond  
(Some say) for joy to see those Kitlin drowned.   

85. On a Fortune-teller.  
The influence of th'Stars are known to thee,  
By whom thou canst each future fortune see:  
Yet sith thy wife doth thee a Cuckold make,  
'tis strange they do not that to thee partake.   

86. To sweet sir Outside.  
Th'expense in Odours, is a foolish sin,  
Except thou couldst sweeten thy Corpse within.   

87. On a Gallant.  
A glittering Gallant, from a prancing Steed,  
Alighting down desired a boy with speed  
To hold his horse a while, he made reply,  
Can one man hold him fast? 'twas answered, I:  
If then one man can hold him Sir, you may  
Do it yourself, quoth he, and slunk away.   

88 To Erasmus.  
That thouart a man each of thy learned works shows,  
But yet thy name tells us thou wast a Mouse.   

89. On Bunce.  
Money thou ow'st me; prithee fix a day  
For payment promised, though thou never pay:  
Let it be Doomsday; nay, take longer ●●ope;  
Nay when thouart honest, let me have some hope.   

90. On an empty House.  
Lollus by night awaked heard Thiefs about  
His house, and searching narrowly throughout  
To find some pillage there, he said, you may  
By night, but I can find nought here by day.   

91. A trim Barber.  
Neat Barber trim, I must commend thy care,  
Which dost all things exactly to a hair.   

92. On a bragging Coward.  
Corsus in Camp, when as his Mates betook  
Themselves to dine, encouraged them and spoke,  
Have a good stomach Lads, this night we shall  
In heaven at Supper keep a festival.  
But battle joined he fled away in haste,  
And said, I had forgot, this night I fast.   

93. On a great Nose.  
Thy Nose no man can wipe, Proclus, unless  
He have a hand as big as Hercules:  
When thou dost sneeze the sound thou dost not hear  
Thy Nose is so far distant from thine ear.   

94. On an unequal pair.  
Fair Phillis is to churlish Priscus wed,  
As stronger wine with waters mingled;  
Priscus his love to Phillis more doth glow  
With fervency then fire; hers cold as snow:  
'Tis well, for if their flames alike did burn,  
One house would be too hot to serve their turn.   

95. In Quintum.  
Quintus is burnt, and may thereof be glad,  
For being poor he hath a good pretence  
At every Church to crave benevolence,  
For one that had by fire lost all he had.   

96. On a changeable Raiment.  
Know you why Lollus changeth every day,  
His Periwig, his face, and his array?  
'Tis not because his come in are much,  
Or 'cause he'll swill it with the roaring Dutch;  
But 'cause the Sergeants (who a writ have had  
Long since against him) should not know the Lad.   

97. On Guests.  
Guests cuts his shoes, and limping goes about  
To have men think he's troubled with the Gou●,  
But 'tis no Gout (believe it) but hard Beer,  
Whose acrimonious humour bites him here.   

98. On Stale-Batch.  
For all night-sins with other Wives unknown  
Batch now doth daily penance in his own.   

99 To sir Guilty.  
Guilty, be wise; and though thou know'st the crimes  
Be thine I tax; yet do not own my Rhymes;  
'Twere madness in thee to betray thy fame,  
And person to the world, ere I thy name.   

100 Veritas subverta.  
Luke that a man on hor●-back met but late,  
Would simply seem thus to equivocate,  
And strong maintain against them, contend who dare,  
'Twas merely but a Tailor and a Mare.   

101. On Hugh.  
Hugh should have gone to Oxford th'other day,  
But turned at Tyburn, and so lost his way.   

102. On a Painted Madam.  
Men say y'are fair; and fair ye are, 'tis true,  
But (Hark!) we praise the Painter now, not you.   

103. On Barossa.  
Barossa boasts his pedigree, although  
He knows no letter of the Christ-cross row,  
His house is ancient, and his gentry great,  
For what more ancient e'er was heard of yet  
Then is the family of fools? how than  
Dare you not call Barossa Gentleman?   

104. Experto credendum.  
How durst Capritius call his wedlock whore,  
But that he speaks it plusquam per narratum.  
Nam ipse teste: what require you more,  
Unless you'd have it magis approbatum?   

105. On jack Cutpurse.  
Jack Cutpurse is, and hath been patient long,  
For he's content to pocket up much wrong.   

106. On Afer.  
Afer hath sold his land and bought a Horse,  
Whereon he pranceth to the royal Burse,  
To be on horseback he delights; wilt know?  
'Cause than his Company he'd higher show:  
But happy chance tall Afer in his pride,  
Mounts a Gunnelly and on foot doth ride.   

107. On Charismus.  
Thou hast composed a Book, which neither age,  
Nor future time shall hurt through all their rage;  
For how can future times or age invade,  
That work which perished as soon as made?   

108. Facilis descensus averni.  
The way to hell is easy, th'other day,  
A blind man thither quickly found the way.   

109. Age and Youth.  
Admire not youth, despise not age, although  
Some young are grave, most old men children grow.   

110. On Orus.  
Orus sold wine, and then tobacco, now  
He aquavitae doth his friends allow.  
What e'er he had was sold to save his life,  
And now turned Pander, he doth sell his wife.   

111. On Sneap.  
Sneap has a face so brittle, that it breaks  
Forth into blushes, whensoe'er he speaks.   

112. On Acerra.  
Tobacco hurts the brain Physicians say,  
Doth dull the wit, and memory decay,  
Yet fear not thou Acerra, for 'twill ne'er  
Hurt thee so much by use, as by thy fear.   

113. Empta nostra.  
Madam La Foy wears not those locks for nought,  
Ask at the Shop else, where the same she bought.   

114. On Briso.  
Who private lives, lives well, no wonder then,  
You do absent you from the sight of men,  
For out of doors you ne'er by day appear,  
What, is a Sergeant such a huge bugbear?   

115. A Foolish Querie.  
How rich a man is, all desire to know;  
But none inquires if good he be or no.   

116. On the King of sweden Picture.  
Who but the half of this neat Picture drew,  
That it could ne'er be fully done, well knew.   

117. B. I. answer to a Thief bidding him stand.  
Fly Villain hence, or by thy coat of steel,  
I'll make thy heart, my brazen bullet feel,  
And send that thrice as thievish soul of thine,  
To Hell, to wear the Devils Valentine.   

118. thieves reply.  
Art thou great Ben? or the revived ghost  
Of famous Shakespeare? or some drunken host?  
Who being tipsy with thy muddy Beer,  
Dost think thy Rhymes shall daunt my soul with fear?  
Nay know base Slave, that I am one of those▪  
Can take a purse as well in verse as prose;  
And when thouart dead write this upon thy Hearse,  
Here lies a Poet that was robbed in Verse.   

119. Nothing New.  
Nothing is new: we walk were others went;  
Th●re's no vice now but has his precedent.   

120. On Cupid.  
Cupid hath by his sly and subtle Art,  
A certain Arrow shot, and pierced my heart;  
What shall I do to be revenged on love?  
There is but one way, and that one I'll prove;  
I'll steal his Arrows, and will head them new  
With women's hearts, and then they'll ne'er fly true.   

121 A Tobacconist.  

All dainty meats I do defy▪  
Which feed men fat as Swine,  
He is a frugal man indeed,  
That on a leaf can dine.   

He needs no Napkin for his hands,  
His finger's ends to wipe,  
That keeps his Kitchen in a Box,  
And Roast-meat in a Pipe.    

122. Feeble standing.  
Mat being drunken, much his anger wreaks  
On's wife; but stands to nothing that he speak●.   

123. Long and Lazy.  
That was the Proverb. Let my Mistress be  
Lazy to others; but belong to me.   

124. On the Tobacconist.  
If man's flesh be like Swine's, as it is said,  
The Metamorphosis is sooner made:  
Then full faced Gnatho no Tobacco take,  
Smoking your Corpse, lest Bacon you do make.   

125. Another.  
Tom I commend thee above all I know,  
That sold'st thy cushion for a pipe of To—  
For now 'tis like if e'er thou study more,  
Thou'●t sit to't harder than thou didst before.   

126. On Button the Grave-maker.  
Ye powers above and heavenly poles,  
Are graves become but Button-holes?   

127. On long hair.  
Lucas long hair down to his shoulders wears,  
And why? he dares not cut it for his ears.   

128. To a stale Lady.  
Thy wrinkles are no more, nor less,  
Then beauty turned to sourness.   

129. A Crab is restorative.  
The Crab of the wood  
Is sauce very good,  
For the Crab of the foaming Sea;  
But the wood of a Crab  
Is sauce for a drab  
That will not her husband obey.   

130. Alius altior.  
Would you with Cajus offer now confer  
In such familiar sort as heretofore?  
And not observe he's grown an Officer,  
That looks for adoration ten times more?  
Tut! what of pedigree, or turpe domo,  
'tis not so now ye see, nam ecce homo.   

131. Sor●e tua contentas.  
If adverse fortune bring to pass,  
And will that thou an Ass must be;  
Then be an ass, and live an ass,  
For out of question wise is he  
That undergoes with humble mind,  
The state that chance hath him assigned.   

132. On a pretender to Prophecy.  
Ninety two years the world as yet shall stand,  
If it do stand or fall at your command;  
But say, why placed you not the world's end nigher  
L●st ere you died you might be proved a liar?   

133. Mart. lib. 8. Epigr. 69.  
Old Poets only thou dost praise,  
And none but dead ones magnify,  
Pardon Vocerta, thee to please,  
I am not yet in mind to die.   

134. On a Gamester.  
For hundred-thousands Matho plays;  
Olus what's that to thee?  
Not thou by means thereof, I trow,  
But Matho poor shall be.   

135. Parcus profusus.  
Old doting Claudus that rich miser known,  
Made drunk one night, & jumping but with joan,  
Was forced not only to discharge the shot,  
But keep the Bastard which the gull ne'er got.   

136. On Fr. Drake.  
Sir Drake, whom well the world's end knew,  
Which thou didst compass round,  
And whom both Poles of Heaven once saw,  
Which North and South do bound.  
The Stars above would make thee known,  
If men here silent were;  
The Sun himself cannot forget,  
His fellow Traveller.   

137. B. I. approbation of a copy of Verses.  
One of the witty sort of Gentlemen,  
That held society with learned Ben—  
Showed him some Verses of a tragic sense;  
Which did his ear much curious violence;  
But after Ben had been a kind partaker  
Of the sad lines, he needs must know the maker;  
What unjust man he was, that spent his time,  
And banished reason to advance his rhyme:  
Nay gentle Ben, replies the Gentleman,  
I see I must support the Poet than;  
Although those humble strains are not so fit  
For to please you, he's held a pretty wit;  
Is he held so? (says Ben) so may a Goos,  
Had I the holding, I would let him loose.   

138. Vt pluma persona.  
Why wears Laurentius such a lofty feather?  
Because he's proud and foolish both together.   

139. Gaine and Gettings.  
When others gain much by the present cast,  
The Cobbler's getting time, is at the last.   

140. Domina praedominatis.  
Ill may Radulphus boast of rule or riches,  
That lets his wife rule him, and wear the breeches.   

141. On Doll.  
Doll she so soon began the wanton trade,  
She ne'er remembers that she was a maid.   

142. To a Nose and Teeth very long.  
Gape against the Sun, and by thy Teeth and Nose  
'Tis easy to perceive how the day goes.   

143. On a Welshman and an Englishman.  
There was a time a difference began,  
Between a Welshman and an Englishman,  
And thus it was; the Englishman would stand  
Against all Argument, that this our land  
Was freest of her fruits: there is a place,  
Quoth he, whose ground so fruitful is of grass,  
But throw a staff in't but this night, you shall  
Not see't the morrow, 'twould be covered all.  
The Welshman cried, 'tis true it might lie under  
The o'ergrown grass, which is with us no wonder:  
For turn your Horse into our fruitful ground,  
And before morning come, he shan't be found.   

144. On Pride.  
Why Pride to others doth herself prefer,  
The reason's clear, she's heir to Lucifer.   

145. On Skrew.  
Skrew lives by shifts, yet swears by no small oaths,  
For all his shifts, he cannot shift his clothes.   

146. O Mores.  
Now virtue's hid with follies juggling missed,  
And he's no man that is no humorist.   

147. To Tell-tale.  
Thy glowing ears, to hot contention bend,  
Are not unlike red Herrings broiled 〈…〉.   

148. Sperando pariens.  
Hodge hired him such a house, at such a rent,  
As might against marriage, much his state augment;  
But lingering fates did so his hopes prevent,  
As Hodge perforce must fly, for all was spent.   

149. On a Soldier.  
The Soldier fights well, and with good regard,  
But when he's lame, he lies at an ill ward.   

150. Vivens mortuis.  
What makes young Brutus bear so high his head,  
And on the sudden gallant it so brave?  
Pray understand Sir; is Father's newly dead,  
Who hath so long been wished for laid in's grave.   

151. A secret necessity.  
What makes F. G. wear still one pair of hose?  
Ask Banks the Broker; he the business knows.   

152. On Garret and Chambers.  
Garret and his friend Chambers having done  
Their City business, walked to Paddington,  
And coming near the fatal place, where men,  
I mean offender's, ne'er return again,  
Looking on Tyburn in a merriment:  
Says Chambers, here's a pretty Tenement  
Had it a Garret? Garret hearing that,  
Replies, friend Chambers I do wonder at  
Your simple censure, and could mock you for it,  
There must be Chambers e'er there be a Garret.   

153. Dubium indubitatum.  
Say Parnels children prove not one like th'other;  
The best is yet, she's sure they'd both one Mother.   

154. On Linnit.  
Linnit plays rarely on the Lu●e, we know;  
And sweetly sings, but yet his breath says no.   

155. On Usuring Gripe.  
Gripe feels no lameness of his knotty Gout,  
His moneys travel for him in and out.  
And though the soundest legs go every day,  
He toils to be at Hell as soon as they.   

156. A phrase in Poetry.  
Fairer than that word fair, why so she must,  
Or be as black as Timothy's toasted crust.   

157. A Wittol.  
jeppa thy wit will ne'er endure a touch,  
Thou know'st so little, and dost speak so much   

158. Ad Lectorem.  
Is't possible that thou my Book hast bought,  
That saidst 'twas nothing worth? why was it nought?  
Read it again, perhaps thy wit was dull,  
Thou may'st find something at the second pull:  
Indeed at first thou nought didst understand;  
For shame get something at the second hand.   

159. On Skins.  
Skins he dined well to day; how do you think?  
His nails they were his meat, his rheum the drink?   

160. Suum cuique pulchrum.  
Posthumus not the last of many more,  
Asks why I write in such an idle vain,  
Seeing there are of Epigrams such store;  
O give me leave to tell thee once again,  
That Epigrams are fitted to the season,  
Of such as best know how to make rhyme reason.   

161. Certa dissimulans.  
Monsieur Piero's wise trades all in French,  
And coily simpering cries, Pardona moy:  
As who should think, she's sure no common wench  
But a most true dissembler, par may foy.   

162. In magnis voluisse sat est.  
In matters great to will it doth suffice:  
I blush to hear how loud this Proverb lies,  
For they that owe great sums by bond or bill,  
Can never cancel them with mere good will.   

163. As proud as witless Dracus.  
Dracus his head is highly by him born.  
And so by straws are empty heads of corn.   

164. Saltem videretur.  
A Welshman and an Englishman disputed,  
Which of their lands maintained the greatest state;  
The Englishman the Welshman quite confuted,  
Yet would the Welshman nought his brags abate,  
Ten cooks, quoth he, in Wales one wedding fees,  
Truth, quoth the other, each man toasts his cheese.   

165. Knowing and not knowing.  
Cosmus by custom taunts each man,  
And yet can nought of reason scan,  
How can that be, when who knows least,  
Knows he should wise be, that would jest:  
Then thus no further I allow,  
That Cosmus know●, but knows not how.   

166. Stupid Binus.  
Sith time flies fast away, his safest flight,  
Binus prevents with dreaming day and night.   

167. Postrema pessima.  
Cacus in's cunning ne'er so proved o'r-reacht  
As now at last, who must be halter-stretcht▪   

168. On his Mistress.  
My Love and I for kisses played,  
She would keep stakes, I was content,  
And when I won she would be paid;  
This made me ask her what she meant,  
Saith she, since you are in this wrangling vain,  
Take you your kisses, and give me mine again.   

169. On a proud Maid.  
She that will eat her breakfast in her bed,  
And spend the morn in dressing of her head,  
And sit at dinner like a Maiden-bride,  
And talk of nothing all d●● but of pride;  
God in mercy may do much to save her,  
But what a case is he in that shall have her?   

170. Tempus edax rerum.  
Time eateth all things, could the Po●ts say,  
The times are changed, our times drink all away.   

171. Fancies ignota.  
Why should not Rubin rich apparel wear,  
That's left more money than an Ass can bear?  
Can any guess him by his outward guise,  
But that he may be generous and wise?   

172. On a coy Woman.  
She seems not won, yet won she is at length;  
In love's war, women use but half their strength.   

173. On Bed-keeping.  
Bradus the Smith hath often sworn and said,  
That no disease should make him keep his bed,  
His reason was, I oft have heard him tell it,  
He wanted money, therefore he would sell it.   

174. On a man stealing a Candle from a Lantern.  
One walking in the street a winter night,  
Climbed to a Lantern, thought t'●ave stole the light,  
But taken in the manner and descried  
By one o'th'servants, who looked & cried,  
Whose there: what d'ye? who doth our lantern handle?  
Nothing, said he, but only snuff the Candle.   

175. On Fraternus.  
Fraternus ' opinions show his reason weak,  
He held the nose was made for man to speak.   

176. Little and Loud.  
Little you are; for women's sake be proud;  
For my sake next, (though little) be not loud.   

177. On a French Fencer, that challenged Church an English Fencer.  
The fencing Gauls in pride and gallant vaunt,  
Challenged the English at the Fencing skill,  
The Fencer Church, or the Church Militant,  
His errors still reproved and knocked him still;  
But sith our Church him disciplined so sore,  
He (rank Recusant) comes to Church no more.   

178. On Gella.  
Gella is light, and like a Candle wasteth,  
Even to the snuff, that stinketh more it lasteth.   

179. On I. Lipsius who bequeathed his Gown to the V. Mary.  
A dying Latinist of great renown,  
Unto the Virgin Mary gave his Gown;  
And was not this false Latin so to join  
With female gender, the case masculine?   

180. On two striving together.  
Two falling out, into a ditch they fell,  
Their falling out, was ill; but in was well.   

181. A Lawyers Will.  
A Lawyer being sick and extreme ill,  
Was moved by his friends to make his will,  
Which soon he did, gave all the wealth he had  
To frantic persons, lunatic, and mad;  
And to his friends this reason did reveal;  
(That they might see, with equity he'd deal)  
From mad men's hands I did my wealth receive,  
Therefore that wealth to mad men's hands I leave.   

182. Youth and Age.  
Age is deformed, Youth unkind,  
We scorn their bodies, they our mind.   

183. Somnus decipiens.  
Dod sweetly dreamt this other night had found  
In gold and silver ne'er an hundred pound,  
But waking felt he was with Fleas sore bitten,  
And further smelled he had his shirt be—   

184. To a Shoemaker.  
What boots it thee, to follow such a trade,  
That's always under foot and underlaid?   

185. Death.  
The lives of men seem in two seas to swim,  
Death comes to young folks, and old go to him.   

186. Quos ergo, etc.  
Rufus in rage the Pots flings down the stairs,  
And threats to pull the Drawer by the ears,  
For giving such attendance: Slave (says he)  
Where's thine observance? Ha! must such as we  
Be no more waited on? Go; bring to pay,  
And keep my Rapier till I come this way.   

187. A disparity.  
Children fond blab truth,  
and fools their brothers;  
Women have learned more wisdom  
of their Mothers.   

188. To Maledict.  
Thou speakest ill, not to give men their deuce,  
But speakest ill, because thou canst not choose.   

189. On Neuter Ned.  
Neuter convict of public wrongs to men,  
Takes private beat, and begins again;  
Two kinds of valour he doth show at once,  
Active in's brains, and passive in his bones.   

190. Interpone tuis, etc.  
Not mirth, nor care alone, but inter-wreathed;  
Care gets mirth's stomach, mirth makes care long breathed.   

191. Ignotus sibi.  
Fastidius finds it Nimis ultra posse,  
How to distinguish of Teipsum nosce:  
I do not marvel much it should be so,  
For why the Coxcomb, will himself not know.   

192. On Craw.  
Craw cracks in Syrup; and does stinking say,  
Who can hold that (my friends) that will away.   

193. Pot Poet.  
Poet and pot differ but in a letter,  
Which makes the Poet love the pot the better.   

194. Content.  
Content is all we aim at with our store?  
If that be had with little, what needs more?   

195. Fast and Loose.  
Paphus was married all in haste,  
And now to rack doth run;  
So knitting of himself too fast,  
He hath himself undone.   

196. Tortus.  
Tortus accused to lie, to fawn, to flatter;  
Said he but set a good face on the matter;  
Then sure he borrowed it, for 'tis well known,  
Tortus ne'er wore a good face of his own.   

197. On Raspe.  
Raspe plays at Nine-holes, and 'tis known he get●  
Many a Taster by his game, and bet●;  
But of his gettings there's but little sign,  
When one hole wastes more than he gets by nine.   

198. Impar impares odit.  
Sotus hates wise men, for himself is none,  
And fools he hates, because himself is one.   

199. Similis doctrina libello.  
Croesus of all things loveth not to buy  
So many Books of such diversity:  
Your Almanac (says he) yields all the sense  
Of time's passed, profit, and experience.   

200. On Tullus.  
Tullus who was a Tailor by profession,  
Is late turned Lawyer, and of large possession.  
So who before did cut but Country freeze,  
Now cuts the Country in excessive fees.   

201. Vt parta perdita.  
Marcellus proves a man of double means,  
First raised by drunkards, then undone by queans.   

202. On jack and jill.  
Since jack and jill both wicked be;  
It seems a wonder unto me,  
That they no better do agree.   

203. On Women.  
Woman's the centre, and the lines be men,  
The circles, love; how do they differ then?  
Circles draw many lines into the centre,  
But love gives leave to only one to enter.   

204. On Woman's love.  
A woman's love is like a Syrian flower,  
That buds, and spreads, and withers in an hour.   

205. On Cook a Cuckold.  
A young Cook married upon Sunday last,  
And he grew old e'er Tuesday night was passed.   

206. Nomine, non re.  
Grace I confess it, hath a comely face,  
Good hand and foot as answerable to it:  
But what's all this except she had more grace?  
Oh you will say, 'tis want that makes her do it.  
True, want of grace indeed, the more her shame:  
Graceless by Nature, only Grace by Name.   

207. A Mounsieur Naso, vero le.  
Naso let none drink in his glass but he,  
Think you 'tis pride? 'tis courtesy.   

208. A Butcher marrying a Tanner's daughter.  
A fitter match than this could not have been,  
For now the flesh is married to the skin.   

209. A Widow.  
He which for's wife a widow doth obtain,  
Doth like to those that buy clothes in Long-lane,  
One Coat's not fit, another's too too old,  
Their faults I know not, but theyare manifold.   

110. On a Farmer Knighted.  
In my conceit Sir john, you were to blame,  
To make a quiet goodwife, a madam.   

211. On Pallas and Bacchus Birth.  
Pallas the offspring of Ioves brain,  
Bacchus out of his thigh was ta'en:  
He breaks his brain that learning wins,  
When he that's drunk breaks but his shin●.   

212. On an old man doting upon a young Wench.  
A rich old man loving a fair young Lass,  
Out of his breeches his spectacles drew,  
Wherewith he writ a note how rich he was;  
All which (quoth he) sweet heart I'll give to you.  
Excuse me Sir (quoth she) for all your riches,  
I'll marry none that wears his eyes in's breeches.   

213. On a Welshman.  
The way to make a Welshman think on bliss,  
And daily say his prayers on his knees,  
Is to persuade him, that most certain 'tis,  
The Moon is made of nothing but green Cheese;  
Then he'll desire of jove no greater boon,  
Then to be placed in Heaven to eat the Moon.   

214. On Lungs.  
Lungs (as some say) ne'er sets him down to eat,  
But that his breath doth fly-blow all his meat.   

215. Ad Quintum.  
Thy lawful wife, fair Lelia needs must be,  
For she was forced by law to marry thee.   

216. As many days in the year, so many Veins in man.  
That every thing we do, might vain appear,  
We have a vein for each day in the year.   

217. To a friend, on the loss of his Mistress.  
I● thou the best of women didst forgo,  
Weigh if thou found'st her, or didst make her so:  
If she was found, know there is more than one;  
If made, the workman lives though she be gone▪   

218. On a Whore.  
Rosa is fair, but not a proper woman;  
Can any woman proper be that's common?   

219. Aequalis consensus.  
Caecus and's choice, for change no time defers,  
Both separate, yet consenting each together,  
He maid's for his turn takes, she men for hers,  
And so they jump, though seldom join together▪   

220. On a Welshman  
A Welshman late coming into an Inn,  
Asked the Maid what meat there was within;  
Cow-heels she answered, and a breast of Mutton;  
But quoth the Welshman, since I am no glutton;  
Either of both shall serve; to night the breast,  
The heels i'th' morning, then light meat is best;  
At night he took the breast, and did not pay,  
I'th' morning took his heels, and run away.   

221. On Men and Women.  
Ill thrives that hapless family that shows  
A Cock that's silent, and a Hen that crows:  
I know not which lives more unnatural lives,  
Obeying Husbands, or commanding Wives.   

222. On Linus.  
Linus told me of Verses that he made,  
Riding to London on a trotting Jade;  
I should have known, had he concealed the case,  
Even by his Verses of his Horse's pace.   

223. Sauce for sorrows.  
Although our sufferings meet with no relief,  
An equal mind is the best sauce for grief.   

224. On a little dimunitive Band.  
What is the reason of God-dam-me's band,  
Inch-deep, and that his fashion doth not alter?  
God-dam-me saves a labour, understand,  
In pullinged off when he puts on the halter.   

225. On fine apparel.  
Some that their wives may neat and cleanly go,  
Do all their substance upon them bestow:  
But who a Goldfinch, fain would make his wife,  
Makes her perhaps a Wagtail all her life.   

226. Upon Conscience.  
Many men this present age dispraise,  
And think men have small conscience now adays;  
But sure, I'll lay no such fault to their charge,  
I rather think their conscience is too large.   

227. Dicta praedicta.  
Battus breaks jests on any thing that's spoken,  
Provided always, they before are broken.   

228. On Umber.  
Umber was painting of a Lion fierce,  
And working it, by chance from umbers Erse  
Flew out a crack, so mighty, that the fart,  
(As Umber swears) did make his Lion start.   

229. In Cornutum.  
Cornutus' called his wife both whore and slut,  
Quoth she, you'll never your brawling but—  
But what quoth he? quoth she, the post or door,  
For you have horns to butt, if I'm a whore.   

230. A witty passage.  
An old man sitting at a Christmas feast,  
By eating Brawn occasioned a jest;  
For whilst his tongue and gums chased about,  
For want of pales the chased Boar broke out;  
And light perchance upon a handsome lass,  
That near him at the Table placed was;  
Which when she spied, she plucked out of her sleeve  
A pin, and did it to the old man give;  
Saying, sith your Brawn out of your mouth doth slip,  
Sir take this pin, and therewith close your lip;  
And bursting into laughter, strained so much,  
As with that strain her backpart spoke low-dutch  
Which th'old man hearing, did the pin restore;  
And bade her therewith close her postern door.   

231. On Cob.  
Cob clouts his shoes, and as the story tells,  
His thumb-nayles pared afford him sparables.   

232. Omnia pariter.  
Ralph reads a line or two, and then cries mew;  
Deeming all else according to those few;  
Thou mightst have thought and proved a wiser Lad;  
(As joan her fooding bought) some good some bad.   

233. A new married Bride.  
The first of all our sex came from the side of Man,  
I thither am returned from whence I came.   

234. On a Pudding.  
The end of all, and in the end,  
the praise of all depends.  
A Pudding merits double praise,  
because it hath two ends.   

235. Answer.  
A pudding hath two ends; you lie my brother  
For it begins at one, and ends at th'other.   

236. Si nihil attuloris, ibis, etc.  
Planus, an honest Swain, but moneyless,  
Besought a Lawyer to be good unto him,  
Who either (gratis) must his cause redress,  
Or promise what he never meant to do him.  
Being asked why he careless lingered it?  
Made this reply, Ex nihilo nihil sit.   

237. On Maids.  
Most Maids resemble Eve now in their lives,  
Who are no sooner women, then theyare wives;  
As Eve knew no man, e'er fruit wrought her woe;  
So these have fruit oft e'er their husbands know.   

238. Vt cecidit surgit.  
Now Martha married is, she'll brave it out,  
Though ne'er so needy known to all about;  
And reason good, she rise once in her life,  
That fell so oft before she was a wife.   

239. On a man whose choice was to be hanged or married.  
M. Lo here's the Bride, and there's the Tree,  
Take which of these best liketh thee.  
R. The choice is bad on either part,  
The woman's worst, drive on the Cart.   

240. Women.  
Were women as little as they are good;  
A Peascod would make them a gown and a hood.   

241. On a Louse.  
A Louse no reason hath to deal so ill,  
With them of whom she hath so much her will;  
She hath no tongue to speak aught in their praise,  
But to backbite them finds a tongue always.   

242. A Courtier and a Scholar meeting.  
A Courtier proud walking along the street,  
Happened by chance a Scholar for to meet:  
The Courtier said (minding nought more than place,  
Unto the Scholar (meeting face to face)  
To take the wall, base men I'll not permit;  
The Scholar said, I will; and gave him it.   

243. Cede majoribus.  
I took the wall, one rudely thrust me by,  
And told me the Highway did openly,  
I thanked him that he would me so much grace,  
To take the worse and leave the better place;  
For if by owners we esteem of things,  
The wall's the Subjects, but the way the Kings.   

244. On Betty.  
Sound teeth has Betty, pure as pearl and small,  
With mellow lips, and luscious therewithal.   

245. A rule for Courtiers.  
He that will thrive in Court, must oft become,  
Against his will, both blind, and deaf, and dumb●   

246. Why women wear a fall.  
A question 'tis, why women wear a fall;  
The truth it is, to pride they're given all,  
And pride, the Proverb says, will have a fall.   

247. For as expertus.  
Priscus hath been a traveller, for why?  
He will so strangely swagger, swear and lie.   

248. To a painted Whore.  
Whosoever saith thou sellest all, doth jest,  
Thou buyest thy beauty, that sells all the rest.   

249. Detur quod meritum.  
A Courtier kind in speech, cursed in condition,  
Finding his faults could be no longer hidden,  
Came to his friend to clear his bad suspicion,  
And fearing lest he should be more then chidden▪  
Fell to flattering and most base submission,  
Vowing to kiss his foot if he were bidden.  
My foot said he? nay that were too submiss;  
You three foot higher, well deserve to kiss.   

250. Non lubens loquitur.  
Gluto, at meals is never heard to talk,  
For which the more his chaps and chin do walk,  
When every one that sits about the board,  
Makes sport to ask, what Gluto, ne'er a word?  
He forced to answer being very loath,  
I● almost choked, speaking and eating both.   

251. On Philos.  
If Philos, none but those are dead, do praise,  
I would I might displease him all his days.   

252. The promise-breaker.  
Ventus doth promise much, but still doth break,  
So all his promises are great and weak:  
Like bubbles in the water (round and light)  
Swelling so great, that they are broke outright,   

253. Change.  
What now we like, anon we disapprove;  
The new successor drives away old love.   

254. On a passing Bell.  
This doleful music of impartial death,  
Who danceth after, danceth out of breath.   

255. Nummos & demona jungit▪  
Bat bids you swell with envy till you burst,  
So he be rich, and may his coffers fill,  
Bringing th'example of the Fox that's cursed  
And threatening folks who have least power to kill●  
For why 'tis known, his trade can never fall,  
That hath already got the Devil and all.   

256. Nil gratum ratione carens.  
Paulus a Pamphlet doth in prose present  
Unto his Lord (the fruits of idle time)  
Who far more careless, then therewith content,  
Wisheth it were converted into rhyme:  
Which done, and brought him at another season,  
Said: now 'tis rhyme, before nor rhyme nor reason.   

257. Non cessat perdere lusor.  
Ask Ficus how his luck at dicing goes:  
Like to the tide (quoth he) it ebbs and flows,  
Then I suppose his chance cannot be good,  
For all men know 'tis longer ebb than flood.   

258. women's policy.  
To weep oft, still to flatter, sometime spin,  
Are properties women excel men in.   

259. Volucrem sic decipit auceps.  
Hidrus the Horse-courser (that cunning mate)  
Doth with the buyers thus equivocate;  
Claps on his hand, and prays he may not thrive,  
If that his gelding be not under five. ☞   

260. Perdat qui caveat emptor.  
Nor less meant Promus when that vow he made  
Then to give o'er his cozening Tapsters trade,  
Who checked for short and frothy measure, swore  
He never would from henceforth fill pot more.   

261. On Death.  
How base hath sin made man, to fear a thing  
Which men call Mors? which yet hath lost all sting,  
And is but a privation as we know,  
Nay is no word if we exempt the O:  
Then let good men the fear of it defy,  
All is but O, when they shall come to die.   

262. To Mr. Ben johnson, demanding the reason why he called his plays works.  
Pray tell me Ben. where doth the mystery lurk,  
What others call a play, you call a work.   

263. Thus answered by a friend in Ben johnsons' defence.  
The Author's friend thus for the Author says,  
Bens plays are works, when others works are plays.   

264. On Crambo a lousy shifter.  
By want of shift, since Lice at first are bred,  
And after by the same increased and fed;  
Crambo I muse how you have Lice so many,  
Since all men know, you shift as much as any.   

265. Ad Aristarchum.  
Be not aggrieved, my humorous line● afford  
Of loser language here and there a word:  
Who undertakes to sweep a common sink,  
I cannot blame him, though his broom do stink.   

266. In Aulum.  
Aulus gives naught, men say, though much he crave  
Yet I can tell to whom the Pox he gave.   

267. On covetous persons.  
Patrons are Latrons, then by this  
theyare worst of greedy people,  
Whose cognizance a Wolf's head is,  
And in his mouth a steeple.   

268. On a Dyer.  
Who hath time hath life, that he denies,  
This man hath both, yet still he dies.   

269. Non verbera, sed verba.  
Two Scholars late appointed for the field;  
Must, which was weakest to the other yield;  
The quarrel first began about a word,  
Which now should be decided by the sword:  
But e'er they drew, there fell that alteration,  
As they grew friends again by disputation.   

270. Love and Liberty.  
●ove he that will; it b●st likes me  
●o have my neck from love's yoke free.   

271 To a neat reader.  
●hou sayest my verses are rude, ragged, ruff,  
●ot like some others rhymes, smooth dainty stuffe●  
epigrams are like Satyrs, rough without,  
●ike Chestnuts sweet, take thou the kernel out.   

272. Of Letting.  
●n bed a young man with his old wife lay▪  
O wife, quoth he, I've let a thing to day,  
By which I fear, I am a loser much:  
His wife replies, youths bargains still are such;  
So turning from him angry at her heart,  
She unawares let out a thundering—  
O wife, quoth he, no loser am I now,  
A marvelous saver I am made by you;  
Young men that old wives have may never sell;  
Because old wives, quoth he, let things so well,   

273. Sublata causa etc.  
Why studies Silvester no more the laws,  
'Tis thought Duck-lane has ta'en away the cause.   

274. Sapiat qui dives, oportet.  
'Tis known how well I live, says Romeo,  
And whom I list, I'll love, or will despise:  
Indeed it's reason good it should be so:  
For they that wealthy are, must needs be wise:  
But this were ill, if so it come to pass,  
That for your wealth you must be begged an 〈◊〉   

275. In Dossum.  
Dosse riding forth, the wind was very big,  
And strained curtsy with his Periwig,  
Leaving his sconce behind so void of hair,  
As Esop's Crow might break her Oyster there;  
Fool he to think his hair could tarry fast,  
When Boreas tears forests with a blast.   

276. Post dulcia, finis amarus.  
jenkin a Welshman that had suits in Law,  
Journeying to London, chanced to steal a Cow;  
For which (pox on her luck as ne'er money saw)  
Was burnt within the fist and know not how:  
Being asked if well the Laws with him did stand▪  
Hur have her now (quoth jenkin) in her hand.   

277. Feminae judificantur viros.  
Kind Katherine to her Husband kis● these words,  
Mine own sweet Will, how dearly do I love thee▪  
If true (quoth Will) the world no such affords.  
And that it's true, I durst his warrant be;  
For ne'er heard I of woman good or ill,  
But always loved best, her own sweet will.   

278. Ad Tusserum.  
Tusser, They tell me when thou wert alive,  
Thou teaching thrift, thyself couldst never thrive;  
So like the wh●●stone many men are wont  
To sharpen others when themselves are blunt.   

229. Praestat videri quam esse.  
Clitus with clients is well customed,  
That hath the Laws but little studied;  
No matter Clitus, so they bring their fees,  
How ill the case and thy advice agrees.   

280. Tunc ●ua res agitur.  
A jealous Merchant that a Sailor me●,  
Asked him the reason why he meant to marry,  
Knowing what ill their absence might beget,  
That still at Sea, constrained are to tarry?  
Sir (quoth the sailor) think you that so strange?  
'Tis done the time whiles you but walk th'exchange.   

281. On Skoles.  
Skoles stinks so deadly, that his breeches loathe  
His dampish but tocks furthermore to cloth:  
Cloyd they are up with Arse; but hope, and blast  
Will whirl about, and blow them thence at last.   

282. A Conference.  
A Dane, a Spaniard, a Polonian,  
Myself a Swiss, with an Hungarian,  
At supper met, discoursed each with other,  
Drank, laughed, yet none that understood another.   

283. In Marcum.  
Marcus is not an hypocrite, and why?  
He flies all good, to fly hypocrisy.   

284. Quod non verba suadeant?  
Sextus half saved his credit with a jest,  
That at a reckoning this devise had got,  
When he should come to draw amongst the rest,  
And saw each man had coin, himself had not;  
His empty pocket feels, and begins to say,  
In sadness Sirs, here's not a cross to pay.   

285. Stupid Binus.  
Sith time flies fast away, his safest flight  
Binus prevents with dreaming day and night.   

286. In divites.  
Rich men their wealth as Children Rattles keep,  
When played a while with't than they fall asleep.   

287. In Fannium.  
What fury's this? his foe whilst Fannius flies,  
He kills himself, for fear of death he dies.   

288. On a vaunting Poetaster.  
Cecilius boasts his Verses worthy be  
To be engraven on a Cypress tree;  
A Cypress wreath befits them well, 'tis true;  
For they are near their death and crave but due.   

289. In divites iracundo●.  
Rich friends against poor to anger still are prone:  
It is not well but profitably done.   

290. Durum telum necessitas.  
Coquus with hunger penniless constrained  
To call for meat and wine three shillings cost,  
Had suddenly this project entertained,  
In stead of what's to pay, to call mine host;  
Who being come entreateth him discuss,  
What price the Law allotteth for shedding blood:  
Whereto mine Host directly answers thus;  
'Twas always forty pence he understood:  
So then, quoth Coquus, to requite your pains,  
Pray break my head, and give me what remains▪   

291. To an upstart.  
Thy old friends thou forgotst having got wealth▪  
No marvel, for thou hast forgot thyself.   

292. Ambition.  
In ways to greatness, think on this,  
That slippery all Ambition is.   

293. Suum cuiq●e.  
A strange contention being lately had,  
Which kind of Music was the sweetest and best,  
Some praise the sprightly sound, and some the sad  
Some liked the Viols; and among the rest,  
Some in the Bagpipes commendation spoke,  
Quoth one stood by, give me a pipe of smoke.   

294. In Prodigum.  
Each age of men new fashions doth invent;  
Things which are old, young men do not esteem▪  
What pleased our Fathers, doth not us content:  
What flourished then, we out of fashion deem:  
And that's the cause as I do understand,  
Why Prodigus did sell his Fathers Land.   

295. In Medicum.  
When Mingo cries, how do you sir? 'tis thought  
He Patients wanteth; and his practice's naught:  
Wherefore of late, now every one he meeteth,  
With [I am glad to see you well] he greeteth:  
But who'll believe him now, when all can tell,  
The world goes ill with him, when all are well?   

296. On Zealot.  
Is Zealot pure? he is: ye see he wears  
The sign of Circumcision in his ears.   

297. Crispati crines plumae dant calcar amori.  
Why is young Annas thus with feathers dight?  
And on his shoulder wears a dangling lock?  
The one foretells he'll sooner fly than fight,  
The other shows he's wrapped in's mother's smock.  
But wherefore wears he such a jingling spur?  
O know, he deals with Jades that will not stir.   

298. On Boung-Bob.  
Bob, thou, nor soldier, thief, nor fencer art,  
Yet by thy weapon liv'st, thoust one good part,   

299. On Glaucus.  
Glaucus' a man, a woman's hair doth wear,  
But yet he wears the same combed out behind:  
So men the wallet of their faults do bear,  
For if before him, he that fault should find:  
I think foul shame would his fair face invade,  
To see a man so like a woman made.   

300. On Crab.  
Crab faces gowns with sundry Furs; 'tis know●▪  
He keeps the Fox-furre for to face his own.   

301. Dolo intimus.  
Nor Hawk, nor Hound, nor Horse, those letters hhh▪  
But ache itself, 'tis Brutus bones attaches.   

302. Of Batardus.  
Batardus needs would know his Horoscope,  
To see if he were born to scape the rope:  
The Magus said, ere thou mine answer have,  
I must the name of both thy parents crave:  
That said, Batardus could not speak but spit;  
For on his father's name he could not hit:  
And out of doors at last he stepped with shame,  
To ask his mother for his father's name.   

303. Consuetudo lex.  
Two wooers for a wench were each at strife,  
Which should enjoy her to his wedded wife,  
Quoth th'one, she's mine, because I first her saw;  
She's mine, quoth th'other, by Pie-corner law●  
Where sticking once a prick on what you buy,  
It's then your own, which no man must deny.   

304. On women's denial.  
Women, although they ne'er so goodly make it,  
Their fashion is but to say no, and take it.   

305. In Battum.  
Battus affirmed no Poet ever writ,  
Before that love inspired his dull-head wit:  
And that himself in love had wit no more,  
Than one stark mad, though somewhat wise before.   

306. On Marriage.  
Wedding and hanging the Destinies dispatch,  
But hanging seems to some the better match.   

307. Vidua aurata.  
Gallus hath got a widow wondrous old,  
The reason is he wooed her for her gold:  
Knowing her Maids are young and serve for hire,  
Which is as much as Gallus doth desire.   

308. In Dol praegnantem.  
Dol learning Propria quae maribus without Book,  
Like Nomen crescent is genitivo doth look.   

309. Timidos fortuna repellit.  
When Miles the Servingman my Lady kissed,  
She knew him not (though scarcely could resist)  
For this (quoth he) my Master bid me say;—  
How's that (quoth she) and frowning flings away:  
Vexed to the heart, she took her mark amiss,  
And that she should a serving creature kiss.  
Why thus it is when fools must make it known,  
They come on others business, not their own.   

310. Against a certain—  
For madmen Bedlam, Bridewell for a Knave,  
Choose whether of those two thou'dst rather have.   

311. Love's progress.  
Love's first approach, delights sweet song doth sing:  
But in departure, she woes sting doth bring.   

312. On old Scylla.  
Scylla is toothless, yet, when she was young,  
She had both teeth enough, and too much tongue.  
What shall I then of toothless Scylla say,  
But that her tongue hath worn her teeth away?   

313. On Gallants cloaks.  
Without, plain cloaks; within, plushed: but I doubt  
The wearer's worst within, and best without.   

314. On Banks the Usurer.  
Banks feels no lameness on his knotty Gout,  
His money travels for him in and out:  
●nd though the soundest legs go every day,  
●e toils to be a● Hell as soon as they.   

315. Pecunia praevalens.  
●ell Tom of Plato's worth or Aristotle's;  
●ang't, give him wealth enough; let wit stop bottles.   

316. On the same.  
●om vowed to beat his boy against the wall,  
●nd as he struck he forthwith caught a fall:  
●he boy deriding, said, I do aver,  
●'have done a thing, you cannot stand to sir.   

317. On Debt.  
To be indebted is a shame men say,  
Then 'tis confessing of a shame to pay.   

318. A forsworn Maid.  
●osa being false and perjured, once a friend  
●id me contented be, and mark her end:  
But yet I care not, let my friend go fiddle;  
●et him mark her end, I'll mark her middle.   

319. Adversity.  
●ove is maintained by wealth, when all is spent,  
Adversity then breeds the discontent.   

320. On Soranzo.  
Soranzo's broad-brim hat I oft compare  
To the vast compass of the heavenly sphere:  
His head, the Earth's glo●●, fixed under it;  
Whose centre is, his wondrous little wit.   

321. To a great Guest.  
With other Friends I bid you to my Feast,  
Though coming late, yet are you not the least.   

322. In Cottam.  
Cotta when he hath dined saith, God be praised,  
Yet never praiseth God for meat or drink:  
Sith Cotta speaketh, and not practiseth,  
He speaketh surely what he doth not think.   

323. De Cord & Lingua.  
The tongue was once a Servant to the heart,  
And what it gave she freely did impart:  
But now hypocrisy is grown so strong,  
She makes the heart a servant to the tongue.   

324. On Rump.  
Rump is a Turn-spit, yet he seldom can  
Steal a swollen sop out of the dripping-pan.   

325. On Poverty.  
If thou be poor, thou shalt be ever so,  
None now do wealth, but on the rich bestow.   

326. In Ebriosum.  
Fie man (saith she) but I tell Mistress Anne,  
Her drunken Husband is no drunken man.  
For those wits which are overcome with drink,  
Are void of reason, and are Beasts I think.   

327. Wills error.  
Will says his wife's so fat, she scarce can go,  
But she as nimbly answers, Faith Si● no:  
Alas good Will, thou art mistaken quite,  
For all men know, that she is wondrous light.   

328. On Rome.  
Hate and debate, Rome through the world hath spread,  
Yet Roma, amor is, if backward read:  
Then is't not strange, Rome hate should foster? no,  
For out of backward love all hate doth grow.   

329. On Tuck.  
At Post and Pair, or Slam, Tom Tuck would play  
This Christmas, but his want therewith, says nay.   

330. Some thing no savour.  
All things have savour, though some but small;  
Nay, a box on th'ear, hath no smell at all.   

331. Art, Fortune, and Ignorance.  
When Fortune fell asleep, and hate did blind her,  
Art, Fortune lost; and Ignorance did find her:  
Sith when, dull Ignorance with Fortune's store,  
Hath been enriched, and Art hath still been poor.   

332. On Bibens.  
Bibens to show his liberality,  
Made Lusus drunk; (a noble quality,  
And much esteemed) which Bibens fallen would pro●●  
To be the sign of his familiar love:  
Lusus beware, thou'lt find him in the end,  
Familiar Devil, no familiar friend.   

333. On Tobacco.  
Things which are common, common men do us●  
The better shrt do common things refuse:  
Yet Countries-cloth-breech, & Court-velvet-hose  
Puff both alike Tobacco through the nose.   

334. On Cupid.  
Cupid no wonder was not clothed of old,  
For love though naked, seldom e'er is cold.   

335. On Ebrio.  
See where Don Ebrio, like a Dutchman goes,  
Yet drunk with English Ale, one would suppose  
That he would shoulder down each door & wall,  
But they must stand, or he, poor fool must fall.   

336. On Love.  
Love hath two divers wings, as lovers say:  
Thou following him, with one he flies away;  
With th'other, if thou fly he follows thee:  
Therefore the Last, Love, only use for me.   

337. On the same.  
Love, as 'tis said, doth work with such strange tools,  
That he can make fools wisemen, wisemen fools,  
Then happy I, for being nor fool, nor wise,  
Love with his toys and tools I shall despise.   

338. On a Woman.  
Some the word Woman fetch, though with small skill,  
From those that want one to effect their will  
If so, I think that wantoness there are none,  
For till the world want men, can they want none.   

339. Ingluviem sequitur fames.  
Curio would feed upon the daintiest fare,  
That with the Court or Country might compare:  
For what lets Curio that he need to care,  
To frolic freely with the proudest that dare:  
But this excess was such in all things rare,  
As he proved bankrupt e'er he was aware.   

340. On Maulsters.  
Such Maulsters as ill measure sell for gain,  
Are not mere knaves, but also knaves in grain.   

341. In Corbum.  
Corbus will not, persuade him all I can,  
The world should take him for a Gentleman:  
His reason's this, because men should not deem,  
That he is such as he doth never seem.   

342. On Priscus Mistress.  
Priscus commends his Mistress for a Girl,  
Whose lips be rubies, and whose teeth are pearl▪  
Th'had need prove so, or else it will be found,  
He pays too door; they cost him many a pound▪   

343. On Women.  
Women think woe— men far more constant be,  
Than we— men, and the letter O we see,  
In woe— men, not in we— men, as they say,  
Figures earth's constant Orb; we— men say nay  
It means the Moon, which proves (none think i● strang●  
Women are constant, & most true in change.   

344. On Soldiers.  
Nor faith, nor conscience common soldiers carry▪  
Best pay, is right; their hands are mercenary.   

345. Drusius and Furio.  
Furio would fight with Drusius in the field,  
Because the straw, stout Drusius would not yield,  
On which their Mistress trod; they both did meet;  
Drusius in field fell dead at Furio's feet;  
One had the straw, but with it this Greek letter π  
The other lost it, pray who had the better?   

346. On Cupid.  
Love is a Boy, and subject to the rod  
Some say, but Lovers say he is a God:  
I think that love is neither god nor boy,  
But a mad brains imaginary toy.   

347. On Candidus.  
When I am sick, not else, thou comest to see me,  
Would fortune from both torments still would free me.   

348. On a Puritan.  
From impure mouths, now many bear the name  
Of Puritan, yet merit not the same.  
This one shall only be my Puritan  
That is a knave, yet seems an honest man.   

349. Ostendit hedera vinum.  
A scoffing mate, that past along Cheapside,  
Incontinent a gallant lass espied;  
Whose tempting Breasts (as to the sale laid out)  
Incites this youngster thus to begin to flout.  
Lady (quoth he) is this flesh to be sold?  
No Lord (quoth she) for silver nor for gold,  
But wherefore ask you? (and there made a stop)  
To buy (quoth he) if not shut up your shop.   

350. Quantum mutatus ab illo!  
Pedes grown proud makes men admire thereat,  
Whose base breeding, should they think not bear it,  
Nay, he on cockhorse rides, how like you that?  
Tut! Pedes proverb is, Win gold and wear it.  
But Pedes you have seen them rise in haste,  
That through their pride have broke their neck at last.   

351. Upon Lavina.  
Lavina brought to bed, her husband looks  
To knows child's fortune throughout his books,  
His neighbours think h'had need search backward rather,  
And learn for certain who had been the father.   

352. Report and Error.  
Error by Error, Tales by Tales, great grow;  
As Snowballs do, by rolling to and fro.   

353. In Superbum.  
Rustic Suerbus fine new clothes hath got,  
Of Taffeta and velvet, fair in sight;  
The show of which hath so bewitched the sot,  
That he thinks Gentlemen to be his right:  
But he's deceived; for true that is of old,  
An Ape's an Ape, though he wear cloth of gold.   

354. No truth in Wine.  
Truth is in wine, but none can find it there,  
For in your Taverns, men will lie and swear.   

355. On Infidus.  
Infidus was so free of Oaths last day,  
That he would swear, what e'er he thought to say:  
But now such is his chance, whereat he's grieved  
The more he swears, the less he is believed.   

356. On Celsus.  
Celsus doth love himself, Celsus is wise,  
For now no Rival e'er can claim his prize.   

357. On Christmas Ivy.  
At Christmas men do always Ivy get,  
And in each corner of the house it set:  
But why do they, then, use that Bacchus' weed?  
Because they mean, then Bacchus-like to feed.   

358. Adversity.  
Adversity hurts none, but only such  
Whom whitest fortune dandled has too much.   

359. On Bacchus.  
Pot-lifting Bacchus to the earth did bend  
His knee to drink a health unto his friend:  
And there he did so long in liquor pour,  
That he lay quite sick-drunk upon the floor.  
Judge, was there not a drunkard's kindness shown,  
To drink his friend a health, and lose his own?   

360. Of a fat man.  
He's rich, that hath great incomes by the year:  
Then that great bellied man is rich, I'll swear:  
For sure his belly ne'er so big had been,  
Had he not daily had great comings in.   

361. A wished Cramp.  
Some have the Cramp in legs, and hands, 'tis told,  
I wished in my wife's tongue, when she doth scold.   

362. Vindicta vim sequitur.  
Nick being kicked and spurred, pursues the Law,  
That doomed the damage at twice forty pence.  
Which, when the party which had wronged him, saw;  
Thought 'twas too great a fine for such offence.  
Why then, quoth Nick, if I too much request,  
Thou mayst at any time kick out the rest.   

363. On Flaccus.  
Flaccus being young, they said he was a Gull;  
Of his simplicity each mouth was full:  
And pitying him, they'd say, the foolish Lad  
Would surely be deceived, of all he had.  
His youth is past, now may they turn him lose;  
For why? the gull is grown to be a Goose.   

364. Per plumas anser.  
See how young Rusus walks in green each day,  
As if he ne'er was youthful until now:  
Ere Christmas next, his green Goose will be grey,  
And those high burnished plumes in's cap will bow:  
But you do wrong him, since his purse is full,  
To call him Goose, that is so young a Gull.   

365. Of jenkin.  
jenkin is a rude Clown, go tell him so;  
What need I tell, what he himself doth know?  
Perhaps he doth not, than he is a sot;  
For tell me, what knows he that knows it not?   

365. On Trigg.  
Trigg having turned his suit he struts in state,  
And tells the world he's now regenerate.   

366. To Fortune.  
Poets say Fortune's blind, and cannot see,  
And therefore to be born withal, if she  
Sometimes drops gifts on undeserving wights:  
But sure they are deceived; she hath her sight;  
Else could it not at all times so fall out,  
That fools should have, and wise men go without.   

367. On Briscus.  
I pray you give Sir Briscus leave to speak,  
The Gander loves to hear himself to creak.   

368. On an English Ape.  
Would you believe, when you this Monsieur see,  
That his whole body should speak French, not he?  
That he untravelled should be French so much,  
As French men in his company should seem Dutch?  
Or hung some Monsieurs picture on the wall;  
By which his damn conceived him, clothes & all?  
No, 'tis the new French Tailors motion, made  
Daily to walk th'Exchange, and help the trade.   

369. Possessions.  
Those possessions short lived are  
Into the which we come by war.   

370. Nulla dies sine linea.  
By ever learning, Solon waxed old,  
For time he knew, was better far than gold:  
Fortune would give him gold which would decay  
But Fortune cannot give him yesterday.   

371. In Cornutum.  
One told his wife, a Harts-head he had bought,  
To hang his hat upon, and home it brought:  
To whom his frugal wife, what need● that care?  
I hope, sweetheart, your head your hat can bear.   

372. On More-dew.  
More-dew the Mercer; with a kind salute,  
Would needs entreat my custom for a suit:  
Here Sir, quoth he, for Satins, Velvets call,  
What e'er you please, I'll take your word for all.  
I thanked, took, gave my word; say than,  
Am I at all indebted to this man?   

373. Pari jugo dulcis tractus.  
When Caecus had been wedded now three days,  
And all his neighbours bad God give him joy,  
This strange conclusion with his wife assays,  
Why till her marriage-day she proved so coy:  
'Fore God (saith he) 'twas well thou didst not yield  
For doubtless than my purpose was to leave thee.  
Oh Sir (quoth she) I once was so beguiled,  
And thought the next man should not so deceive me.  
Now fie upon't (quoth he) thou breed'st my wo.  
Why man (quoth she) I speak but quid pro quo.   

374. On Sims marriage.  
Six months, quoth Sim, a Suitor, and not sped?  
I in a sev'n-night did both woe and wed  
Who green fruit loves, must take long pains to shake;  
Thine was some down-fall, I dare undertake.   

375. Upon Sis.  
Si● brags sh'hath beauty, and will prove the same:  
As how? as thus Sir; 'tis her Puppies name.   

376. On Clym.  
Clym calls his wife, and reckoning all his neighbours,  
Just half of them are Cuckolds, he avers.  
Nay sie, quoth she, I would they heard you speak;  
You of yourself, it seems, no reckoning make.   

377. On Gut.  
Science puffs up, says Gut, when either Pease  
Make him thus swell, or windy Cabbages.   

378. On women's faults.  
We men in many faults abound,  
But two in women can be found:  
The worst that from their Sex proceeds,  
Is naught in words, and naught in deeds.   

379. To a Muck-worm.  
Content great riches is, to make which true,  
Your Heir would be content to bury you.   

380. On Law.  
Our Civil Law doth seem a Royal thing,  
It hath more titles than the Spanish King:  
But yet the Common-Law quite puts it down,  
In getting, like the Pope, so many a Crown.   

381. In Coam.  
A nor ☊ will Coa espy,  
Till she ascend up to the corner'd π   

382. Maid's Nay's.  
Maid's Nays are nothing, they are shy  
But to desire what they deny.   

383. De Ore.  
Os of O, a Mouth, Scaliger doth make;  
And from this letter, Mouth his name doth take:  
And I had been of Scaligers belief,  
But that I looked in O, and saw no Teeth.   

384. In Hugonem.  
Though praise, and please, doth Hugo never none,  
Yet praise, and please, doth Hugo ever one;  
For praise, and please, doth Hugo himself alone.   

385. On Severus.  
Severus is extreme in eloquence,  
For he creates rare phrase, but rarer sense:  
Unto his Servingman, alias his Boy,  
He utters speech exceeding acquaint and coy;  
Diminutive, and my defective slave,  
My pleasure's pleasure is, that I must have  
My Corpse Coverture, and immediately,  
T'insconce my person from frigility.  
His Man believes all's Welsh his Master spoke,  
Till he rails English, Rogue go fetch my Cloak.   

386. On julias' weeping.  
She by the River sat, and sitting there,  
She wept, and made it deeper by a tear.   

387. On a Gallant.  
What Gallant's that, whose Oaths fly through mine ears?  
How like a Lord of Pluto's Court he swears!  
How Dutchman-like he swallows down his drink!  
How sweet he takes Tobacco till he stink!  
How lofty sprighted he disdains a Boor!  
How faithful hearted he is to a—!  
How Cock-tail proud he doth himself advance!  
How rare his spurs do ring the Morris-dance!  
Now I protest by Mistress Susan's Fan,  
He and his boy will make a proper man.   

388. On Virtue, Milla's Maid.  
Saith Aristotle, Virtue ought to be  
Communicative of herself & free;  
And hath not Virtue, Milla's maid, been so?  
Who's grown hereby, as big as she can go.   

389. On Corydon.  
An homespun Peasant with his Urine-glasse,  
The Doctor asked what Countryman he was.  
Quoth Corydon, with making legs full low,  
Your worship, that, shall by my water know.   

390. On a Spanish Soldier.  
A Spanish Soldier, sick unto the death,  
His Pistol to's Physician did bequeath.  
Who did demand, what should the reason be,  
'Bove other things to give him that; (quoth he)  
This with your practice joined, you may kill,  
Sir, all alive, and have the world at will.   

391. Upon the Ass.  
The Ass a Courtier on a time would be,  
And travelled foreign Nations for to see;  
But home returned, fashion he could none,  
His main and tail were only larger grown.   

392. On Hypocrisy.  
As Venison in a poor man's kitchen's rare;  
So Hypocrites and Usurers in Heaven are.   

393. Daemonum certamen.  
A Broker and an Usurer contended,  
Which in's profession was the most befriended;  
And for experience more to have it tried,  
A Scrivener must the difference decide,  
To whom (quoth he) you like the Fox & Cub,  
One shall be Mammon, th'other Belzebub.   

394. On Love.  
Love's of itself too sweet; the b●st of all  
Is; when Love's honey has a dash of gall.   

395. On Man and Woman.  
When Man and Woman dies, as Poets sung;  
His Heart's the last that stirs, of hers the Tongue.   

396. On fabulus.  
I asked fabulus, why he had no wife?  
(Quoth he) because I'd live a quiet life.   

397. On Fornus.  
Fornus takes pains, he need not without doubt,  
O yes, he labours much. How? with the Gout.   

398. Quid non ebrietas.  
Rubin reports, his Mistress is a Punk:  
Which being told her, was no whit dismayed,  
For sure as death (quoth she) the Villains drunk▪  
And in that taking, knows not what he said.  
'Twas well excused, but oft it comes to pass,  
That true we find, In vino veritas.   

399. No Pains, no Gains.  
If little labour, little are our gains,  
Man's fortunes are according to his pains.   

400. Infirmis animosus.  
Pontus by no means from his coin departs,  
Z'foot, will you have of men more than their hearts?   

401. A culina ad curiam.  
Lixa, that long a Serving-groom hath been,  
Will now no more the man be known or seen:  
And reason good, he hath the place resigned;  
Witness his cloak, throughout with Velvet lined,  
Which by a Paradox comes thus to pass;  
The greasy Gull is turned a gallant ass.   

402. Frustra vocaveris heri.  
Dick had but two words to maintain him ever,  
And that was Stand, and after stand Deliver.  
But Dick's in Newgate, and he fears shall never  
Be blest again with that sweet word, Deliver.   

403. Magnis non est morandum.  
See how Silenus walks accomplished,  
With due performance of his father's page:  
Looks back of purpose to be honoured,  
And on each slight occasion begins to rage;  
You, villain, dog, where hath your stay been such?  
Quoth he, the Broker would not lend so much.   

404. Puduit sua damna refer.  
Such ill success had Dick at Dice last night,  
As he was forced, next day, play least in sight:  
But if you love him, make thereof no speeches,  
He lost his Rapier, Cloak, and Velvet Breeches.   

405. Ad Lectorem.  
Reader, thou seest how pale these papers look,  
While they fear thy hard censure on my Book.   

406. Nimis docuit consuetudo.  
Old Fucus board is oft replenished,  
But nought thereof must be diminished,  
Unless some worthless upper-dish or twain;  
The rest for service still again remain.  
His man that used to bring them in for show,  
Leaving a dish upon the bench below,  
Was by his Master (much offended) blamed,  
Which he, as brief, with answer quickly framed;  
T'hath been so often brought afore this day,  
As now ch'ad thoft itself had known the way.   

407. Poculo junguntur amici.  
A health, saith Lucas, to his Love's bright eye;  
Which not to pledge, were much indignity;  
You cannot do him greater courtesy,  
Then to be drunk, and damned for company.   

408. Nullum stimulum ignaris.  
Caecus awake, was told the Sun appeared,  
Which had the darkness of the morning cleared:  
But Caecus sluggish, thereto makes reply,  
The Sun hath further far to go then I.   

409. In Richardum.  
At three goe-downs Dick doffs me off a pot,  
The English Gutter's Latin for his throat.   

410. Non penna, sed usus.  
Cajus accounts himself accursed of men,  
Only because his Lady loves him not:  
Who, till he taught her, could not hold her pen,  
And yet hath since, another Tutor got.  
Cajus it seems, Thy skill she did but cheapen,  
And means to try him at another weapon.   

411. An absolute Gallant.  
If you will see true valour here displayed,  
Hear Poly-phemus, and be not afraid.  
D'ye see me wronged, and will ye thus restrain me?  
Sir let me go, for by these hilts I'll brain ye.  
Shall a base patch with appearance wrong me?  
I'll kill the villain, pray do not prolong me.  
Call my Tobacco putrified 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 too:  
O are you so? I cry you mercy then,  
I am to fight with none but Gentlemen.   

412. To Momus.  
Momus thou sayest my Verses are but toys:  
'Tis true, yet truth is often spoke by boys.   

413. In Dolentem.  
Dolens doth show his purse, and tell you this,  
It is more horrid than a Pest-house is;  
For in a Pest-house many mortals enter,  
But in his purse one Angel dares not venture.   

414. Abditio perditio.  
From Mall but merry, men but mirth derive,  
For trix 'tis makes her prove demonstrative.   

415. On a Gallant.  
Sirrah, come hither, boy, take view of me,  
My Lady I am purposed to go see;  
What doth my Feather flourish with a grace?  
And this my curled hair become my face?  
How decent doth my Doublet's form appear?  
I would I had my Suit in Long-lane here.  
Do not my spurs pronounce a silver sound?  
Is not my hose-circumference profound?  
Sir these be well, but there is one thing ill,  
Your Tailor with a sheet of Paper-bill,  
Vows he'll be paid, and Sergeants he hath feed,  
Which wait your coming forth to do the deed.  
Boy God-a-mercy, let my Lady stay,  
I'll see no Counter for her sake to day.   

416. In Sextum.  
Sextus six pockets wears, two for his uses,  
The other four to pocket up abuses.   

417. A Stammerer.  
Balbus with other men would angry be,  
Because they could not speak as well as he;  
For others speak but with their mouth he knows,  
But Balbus speaks both through the mouth & nose.   

418. On himself.  
I disliked but even now;  
Now I love I know not how.  
Was I idle, and that while  
Was I fired with a smile?  
I'll to work, or pray, and then  
I shall quite dislike again.   

419. Tom's fortune.  
Tom tells he's robbed, and counting all his losses,  
Concludes, all's gone, the world is full of crosses:  
If all be gone, Tom take this comfort then,  
thouart certain never to have cross again.   

420. Opus and Vsus.  
Opus for need consumed his wealth apace,  
And ne'er would cease until he was undone;  
His brother Vsus lived in better case  
Than Opus did, although the eldest son.  
'Tis strange it should be so, yet here was it,  
Opus had all the Land, Vsus the Wit.   

421. A good Wife.  
A Bachelor would have a Wife were wise,  
Fair, rich, and young, a maiden for his bed—  
Nor proud, nor churlish, but of faultless size;  
A Country housewife in the City bred.  
But he's a fool, and long in vain hath stayed;  
He should bespeak her, there's none ready made.   

422. Anger.  
Wrong● if neglected, vanish in short time;  
But heard with anger, we confess the crime.   

423. Upon Gellia.  
When Gellia went to school, and was a Girl;  
Her teeth for whiteness might compare with pearl  
But after she the taste of sweet meats knew,  
They turned all Opals, to a perfect blue;  
Now Gellia takes Tobacco, what should let,  
But last they should converted be to jet?   

424. On an unconstant Mistress.  
I dare not much say when I thee commend,  
Lest thou be changed e'er my praises end.   

425. In Lesbiam.  
Why should I love thee Lesbian? I no reason see:  
Then out of reason, Lesbian, I love thee.   

426. In Paulinum.  
Paul by day wrongs me, yet he daily swears,  
He wisheth me as well as to his soul:  
I know his drift to damn that he nought cares,  
To please his body, therefore good friend Paul,  
If thy kind nature will afford me grace,  
Hereafter love me in thy body's place.   

427. On Zeno.  
Zeno would fain th'old widow Egle have;  
Trust me he's wise, for she is rich and brave:  
But Zeno, Zeno, she will none of you;  
In my mind she's the wiser of the two.   

428. Of a Drunkard.  
Cinna one time most wonderfully swore,  
That whilst he breathed he would drink no more▪  
But since I know his meaning, for I think  
He meant he would not breathe whilst he did drink.   

429. To Cotta.  
Be not wroth Cotta, that I not salute thee,  
I used it whilst I worthy did repute thee;  
Now thou art made a painted Saint, and I,  
Cotta, will not commit Idolatry.   

430. To Women.  
Ye that have beauty, and withal no pity,  
Are like a pricksong lesson without ditty   

431. On Creta.  
Creta doth love her husband wondrous well,  
It needs no proof, for every one can tell:  
So strong's her love, that if I not mistake,  
It doth extend to others for his sake.   

432. On Priscus.  
Why still doth Priscus strive to have the wall?  
Because he's often drunk and fears to fall.   

433. On Rufus.  
At all, quoth Rufus, lay you what you dare,  
I'll throw at all, and 'twere a peck of gold;  
No life lies on't, than coin I'll never spare;  
Why Rufus, that's the cause of all that's sold?  
For with frank Gamesters it doth oft befall,  
They throw at all, till thrown quite out of all.   

434. On Tobacco.  
Tobacco is a weed of so great power,  
That it (like earth) doth all it feeds, devour.   

435. Upon Nasuto.  
When at the Table once I did aver,  
Well-taken discord, best did please the ear,  
And would be judged by any Quirister,  
Were in the Chapel, Paul's, or Westminster;  
Nasuto sitting at the nether end,  
(First having drunk and coughed) quoth he my friend,  
If that were true, my wife and I, I fear,  
Should soon be sent to some Cathedral Choir.   

436. Nec vultus indicat virum.  
Dick in a raging deep discourtesy,  
Calls an Attorney mere Necessity:  
The more knave he; admit he had no Law,  
Must he be flouted at by every Daw?   

437. On Furius.  
Furius a lover was, and had loving fits,  
He loved so madly that he lost his wits;  
Yet he lost nought, yet grant I, he was mad,  
How could he lose that which he never had?   

438. Fool's Fortune.  
Fools have great fortune, but yet not all,  
For some are great fools, whose fortune's small.   

439. Tace sed age.  
Little or nothing said, soon mended is,  
But they that nothing do, do most amiss.   

440. On Count-surly.  
Count-surly will no Scholar entertain:  
Or any wiser than himself; how so?  
The reason is, when fools are in his train,  
His wit amongst them, makes a goodly show.   

441. On Women.  
When man lay dead-like, woman took her life,  
From a crooked emblem of her nuptial strife;  
And hence (a● bones would be at rest) her ease  
She loves so well, and is so hard to please.   

442. Verses.  
Who will not honour noble Numbers, when  
Verses outlive the bravest deeds of men?   

443. Poor Irus.  
Irus using to lie upon the ground,  
One morning under him a feather found,  
Have I all night here lain so hard (quoth he)  
Having but one poor feather under me:  
I wonder much then how they take their ease,  
That night by night, lie on a bed of these.   

444. Merry Doll.  
I blame not lusty Doll, that strives so much,  
To keep her light heart free from sorrows touch;  
she'll dance and sing a hem boys, hay all six,  
She's steel to th'back, all mirth, all meretrix.   

445. Heaven and Hell.  
I● Heaven's called the place where Angels dwell,  
My purse wants Angels, pray call that Hell.   

446. Like question like answer.  
A young beginner walking through Cheapside,  
A house shut up he presently espied  
And read the Bill, which o'er the door was set,  
Which said, the house and shop was to be let;  
That known, he asked a young man presently,  
Which at the next door stood demurely.  
May not this shop be let alone? qoth he,  
Yes, you may let't alone for aught I see.   

447. On deaf joan.  
She prates to others, yet can nothing hear,  
Just like a sounding Jugge that wants an ear.   

448. Of an ill wife.  
Priscus was weeping when his wife did die,  
Yet he was then in better case than I:  
I should be merry, and should think to thrive,  
Had I but his dead wife for mine alive.   

449. Meum & Tuum.  
Meg lets her husband boast of rule and riches,  
But she rules all the roast, and wears the breeches.   

450. Death's trade.  
Death is a Fisherman, the world we see  
His Fishpond is, and we the Fishes be.  
He sometimes, Angler-like, doth with us play,  
And slily takes us one by one away;  
Diseases are the murthering-books, which he  
Doth catch us with, the bait mortality,  
Which we poor silly fish devour, till struck,  
At last too late we feel the bitter hook.  
At other times he brings his net, and then  
At once sweeps up whole Cities full of men,  
Drawing up thousands at a draught, and saves  
Only some few, to make the others graves:  
His Net some raging pestilence; now he  
Is not so kind as other Fishers be;  
For if they take one of the smaller ●rye,  
They throw him in again, he shall not die:  
But death is sure to kill all he can get,  
And all is Fish with him that comes to Net.   

451. O● Bice.  
Bice laughs when no man speak●, and doth protest  
It is his own breech there that breaks the jest.   

452. Valiant in drink.  
Who only in his Cups will ●ight, is like  
A clock that must be oiled well ere it strike.   

453. Master and Scholar.  
A Pedant asked a Puny ripe and bold,  
In an hard frost, the Latin word for cold:  
I'll tell you out of hand, (quoth he) for lo,  
I have it at my finger's ends, you know.   

454. Gasters great belly.  
Gaster did seem to me to want his eyes,  
For he could neither see his legs nor thighs;  
But yet it was not so; he had his sight,  
Only his belly hanged in his light.   

455. Drunken Dick.  
When Dick for want of drunken mates grows sick,  
Then with himself to work goes faithful Dick.  
The buttery door t'himself he shutteth close  
That done, then goes the pot strait ways to's nose:  
A health (quoth noble Dick) each hogshead than  
Must seeming pledge this honest faithful man:  
But strait from kindness Dick to humours grows,  
And then to th'barrels he his valour shows,  
Throwing about the cups, the pots, the glasses,  
And rails at the tuns, calling them drunken asses:  
Ne'er ceasing this same faithful coil to keep,  
Till under th'hogshead Dick falls fast asleep.   

456. In Sextinum.  
A pretty block Sextinus names his Hat,  
So much the fitter for his head by that.   

457. Sine sanguine.  
Ralph challenged Robin, time and place appointed,  
Their Parents heard on't, O how they lamented!  
But good luck was, they soon were freed of fear,  
The one ne'er meant, the other came not there.   

458. On humane Bodies.  
Our bodies are like shoes, which off we cast,  
Physic their Cobbler is, and death the Last.   

459. On Trencherman.  
Tom shifts the Trenchers, yet he never can,  
Endure that lukewarm name of Servingman;  
Serve or not serve, let Tom do what he can,  
He is a serving, who's a Trencherman.   

460. A Toothlesse-pratler.  
Nature the teeth doth as an hedge ordain,  
The nimble frisking tongue for to contain:  
No marvel then since that the hedge is out,  
If Fuscus tongue walketh so fast about.   

461. A musical Lady.  
A Lady fairer far than fortunate,  
(In dancing) thus o'r-shot herself of late,  
The Music not in tune, pleased not her mind,  
For which he with the Fiddler's fault did find;  
Fiddlers (quoth she) your Fiddles tune for shame▪  
But as she was a speaking of the same,  
To mend the consort, let she did a (F.)  
Whereas the fiddling knaves thus did her greet,  
Madam your pipe's in tune, it plays most sweet;  
Strike up, qd. they, (but then the knaves did smile)  
And as you p●p●, we'll dance another while.  
At which, away the blushing Lady flings,  
But as she goes, her former notes she sings.   

462. In Laurettam.  
Lauretta is laid o'er, how I'll not say,  
And yet I think two manner of ways I may,  
Doubly laid o'er, videlicet, her face,  
Laid o'er with colours, and her coat with lace.   

463. On Macer.  
You call my verses toys, theyare so, 'tis true,  
Yet they are better than aught comes from you.   

464. Briskap the Gallant.  
Though thou hast little judgement in thy head,  
More than to dress thee, drink and go to bed;  
Yet may'st thou take the wall, & th'way shalt lead,  
Sith Logic wills that simple things precede.   

465. Necessity hath no Law.  
Florus did beat his Cook, and began to sweaee,  
Because his meat was rotten roasted there.  
Peace good Sir (quoth the Cook) Need hath no Law,  
'Tis rotten roasted, 'cause 'twas rotten raw.   

466. In Carientium.  
Garentius might have wedded where he wooed,  
But he was poor, his means was nothing good,  
'Twas but for lack of living that he lost her;  
For why? no penny now, no Pater noster.   

467. On Harpax.  
Harpax gave to the poor all by his will,  
Because his heir should not feigned tears distil.   

468. To a Barber.  
Tonsorius only lives by cutting hair,  
And yet he brags that Kings to him sit bare:  
Me thinks he should not brag and boast of it,  
For he must stand to beggars while they sit.   

469. Upon Grand●orto.  
The morrow after just Saint George's day,  
Grand●orto piteous drunk, sat in a ditch,  
His hands by's side, his gelding strayed away,  
His scarlet hose, and doublet very rich;  
With mud and mire all beastly raid, and by  
His feather with his close-stool-hat did lie.  
We asked the reason of his sitting there,  
Zounds 'cause I am King Solomon (quoth he)  
And in my Throne; then for the Love we bear,  
(Replied myself) unto your Majesty,  
we'll pull you out, & henceforth wish your grace  
Would speak your Proverbs in a warmer place.   

470. The Fencer and Physic Doctor.  
Lie thus (the Fencer cries) thus must you guard,  
Thus must you slip, thus point, thus pass, thus ward  
And if you kill him Sir, this trick learn then  
With this same trick you may kill many men.  
A Doctor standing by, cries, Fencing fool,  
Both you & he to me may come to school,  
Thou dost but prate: my deeds shall show my skill  
Where thou hurt'st one, an hundred I do kill.   

471. In Lusiam.  
Lusia who scorns all others imitations,  
Cannot abide to be outgone in fashions:  
She says she cannot have a hat or ruff,  
A gown, a petticoat, a band, or cuff.  
But that these Citizens (whom she doth hate)  
Will get into't, at ne'er so dear a rate:  
But Lusia now doth such a fashion wear,  
Whose hair is curled, and costs her some what dear:  
That there's no Citizen, what e'er she be,  
Can be transformed so like an Owl as she.   

472. Kisses.  
Give the food that satisfies a Guest:  
Kisses are but dry banquets to a feast   

473. A Civilian.  
A lusty old grown-grave gray-headed Sire,  
Stole to a wench, to quench his lusts desire;  
She asked him what profession he might be?  
I am a Civil Lawyer, Girl, (quoth he)  
A Civil Lawyer Sir! you make me muse,  
Your talk's too broad for Civil men to use;  
If Civil Lawyers are such bawdy men,  
Oh what (quoth she) are other Lawyers then?   

474. Rainaldo, and Rainer.  
Rainaldo meeting Reiner in the street,  
Deep in his debt, he doth thus Reiner greet,  
You know some money is betwixt us two,  
That well-nigh now these ten years hath been due;  
Quoth Reiner (looking down unto his feet)  
I'faith and we will part it, if I see't:  
But as I live Rainaldo I find none,  
As fain as you, I would you had your own.   

475. Spinus his choice.  
Spinus would wed, but he would have a wench  
That hath all tongues, Italian, Spanish, French,  
But I dissuade him; for if she hath any,  
She hath enough; if two, she hath too too many.   

476. Backbiters.  
When Codrus catches fleas, what e'er he ails,  
He kills them with his teeth, not his nails;  
Saying, that man by man may blameless go,  
If every one would use Backbiters so.   

477. In Salonus.  
Oft in the night Salonus is inclined,  
To rise and piss; and doth as oft break wind▪  
If's Urinal be glass, as 'tis no doubt,  
I wonder it so many cracks holds out.   

478 In Leonatum.  
The filthiest, the foulest, deformedst lass,  
That is, will be, I think or ever was,  
Leonatus loves; wherewith should she him draw,  
Except as she's like jet, he be like straw?   

479. Nosce teipsum.  
Walking and meeting one not long ago,  
I asked who 'twas, he said he did not know:  
I said, I know thee; so said he, I you,  
But he that knows himself I never knew.   

480. An Old Silvium.  
Silvius by Simony a living got,  
And he lived well upon it; pray why not?  
For he the poor did pill, the rich did lurch,  
And so became a pillar of the Church.   

481. On Perfumes.  
They that smell least, smell best: which intimates,  
They smell like Beasts that smell like Civet Cats.   

482. Arcades ambo.  
jack and Dick both with one woman dealt  
So long till she the pains of woman felt:  
Now Dick he thinks to put a trick on jack  
And jack again to hang it on Dicks back:  
Which got the Child, it seems a double case,  
I● hath so like (they say) jacks nose, Dicks face.  
But by both marks my judgement should be quick,  
Et vitulo tu dignus jack & Dick.   

483. On Punchin.  
Give me a reason why men call  
Punchin a dry plant-Animall.  
Because as plants by water grow,  
Punchin by Beer & Ale spreads so.   

484. Ne fide colori.  
When Bassa walks abroad she paints her face,  
And then she would be seen in every place,  
For then your Gallants who so e'er they are,  
Under a colour will account her fair.   

485. In Flavium.  
When Flavius once would needs praise Tin,  
His brain could b●ing no reason in;  
But what his belly did bethink,  
Platters for meat, and Pots for drink.   

486. Ad Quintum.  
Thy lawful wife, fair Lelia needs must be,  
For she was forced by Law to marry thee.   

487. In Virtutem.  
Virtue we praise, but practise not her good,  
(Athenian-like) we act not what we know▪  
So many men do talk of Robin-Hood,  
Who never yet shot arrow in his bow.   

488. A good wits diet.  
That which upholds our tottering walls of flesh,  
Is food: and that which doth our wits refresh,  
Is wholesome study: for like longer fare,  
Be solid Arts, but sweet meats Poems are.   

489. On women's tongue.  
Things that be bitter, bitterer than gall,  
Physicians say, are always Physical.  
Then women's tongues, if into powder beaten,  
And in a Potion, or a pill be eaten,  
Nothing more bitter is, I therefore muse,  
That women's tongues in Physic they ne'er use:  
There's many men who live unquiet lives,  
Would spare that bitter member of their wives.  
Then prove them Doctor, use them in a pill;  
Things oft help sick men, that do sound men kill.   

490. A proper comparison.  
As there are three blue beans in a blue bladder,  
As there are thrice three rounds in a long ladder,  
As there are three nooks in a corner'd cap,  
And three corners and one in a Map,  
Even so like all these,  
There are three Universities.   

491. Of Death.  
He that fears death, or mourns it in the just,  
Shows of the resurrection little trust.   

492. Woman.  
Woman was once a rib, (as truth hath said)  
Else sith her tongue runs wide from every point,  
I should have dreamed her substance had been made  
Of Adam's whirlebone, when 'twas out of joint.   

493. Pepertit, etc.  
Nels Husband said, she brought him nought but toys,  
But yet (without his help) she brings him boys.   

494. Insipiens.  
Two friends discoursing that together stood,  
The one enquiring if the other could  
Tell whether such a man were wise?  
He answered no, but he is otherwise.   

495. Rome's wifeless Clergy.  
Long did I wonder, and I wondered much,  
Rome should her Clergy that contentment grudge  
As to debar them of their proper due;  
What, doth she all with continence endue?  
O no; they find a woman's lips so dainty,  
They'll tie themselves from one, 'cause they'll have twenty.   

496. On Eves Apples.  
Eve for thy fruit thou gav'st too dear a price,  
What? for an Apple give a Paradise?  
If now adays of fruit such gains were made,  
A Costermonger were a Devilish trade.   

497.  
Will the Perfumer met me in the street,  
I stood amazed, he asked me what I meant;  
In faith, said I, your Gloves are very sweet,  
And yet your breath doth cast a stronger sent:   

498. Beauty.  
Beauty's no other but a lovely grace,  
Of lively colours, flowing from the face.   

499. On Poetical Blinks.  
He nine ways looks, and needs must learned be,  
That all the Muses at one view can see.   

500 A Conceit.  
As Sextus once was opening of a Nut,  
With a sharp knife his finger deeply cut,  
What sign is this, quoth he, can any tell?  
'Tis sign, quoth one, y'have cut your finger well.  
Not so, saith he, for now my finger's sore,  
And I am sure that it was well before.   

501. Women.  
Howsoe'er they be, thus do they seem to me,  
They be and seem not, seem what least they be:   

502. Mutuans Dissimulans.  
Dick crafty borrows to no other end,  
But that he will not aught to others lend,  
That else might ask him: 'Tis some wisdom Dick  
How ere, accounted but a knavish trick.   

503. Writing.  
When words we want, love teacheth to indite;  
And what we blush to speak, she bids us write.   

504. A cure for Impatience.  
Who would be patient, wait he at the Pool,  
For Bull-heads, or for Blockheads in the School.   

505. Satisfaction.  
For all our works, a recompense is sure:  
'Tis sweet to think on what was hard t'endure.   

506. To Mistress mutable.  
Love runs within your veins, as it were mixed  
With Quicksilver, but would be wisely fixed:  
For though you may for beauty bear the Bell,  
Yet ever to ring Changes sounds not well.   

507. On a Madman.  
One asked a man-man, if a wife he had?  
A wife! quoth he, I never was so mad.   

508. To Scylla.  
If it be true that promise be a debt,  
Then Scylla will her freedom hardly get;  
For if she hath vowed her service to so many,  
She'll neither pay them all, nor part from any.  
Yet she to satisfy her debts, desires  
To yield her body, as the Law requires.   

509. Nescis, quid serus vesper vehat.  
Lyn●us deviseth as he lies in bed,  
What new apparel he were best to make him:  
So many fashions flow within his head,  
As much he fears the Tailor will mistake him:  
But he mistook him not, that by the way  
Did for his old suit lay him up that day.   

510. To Ficus.  
Ficus hath lost his nose, but knows not how,  
And that seems strange to every one that knows it:  
Me thinks I see it written in his brow,  
How, wherefore, and the cause that he did lose it.  
To tell you true, Ficus, I thus suppose,  
'Twas some French Cannibal bit off your nose.   

511. On a painted Courtesan.  
Whosoever saith thou sellest all, doth jest,  
Thou buyest thy beauty, that sells all the rest   

512. Of Arnaldo.  
Arnaldo free from fault, demands his wife,  
Why he is burdened with her wicked life?  
Quoth she, good husband do not now repent,  
I far more burdens bear, yet am content.   

513. Labour improbus omnia vincit.  
Glogo will needs be knighted for his lands,  
Got by the labour of his father's hands,  
And hopes to prove a Gentleman of note,  
For he hath bought himself a painted coat.   

514. Quis nisi mentis inops—  
Ware proffered stinks; yet stay good Proverb, stay,  
Thou art deceived, as Clients best can say;  
Who proferring treble fees, for single care,  
It's well accepted, gold it is such ware.   

515. On a friend indeed.  
A real friend a Cannon cannot batter;  
With nom'nall friends, a Squib's a perilous matter,   

516. On an Italian Proverb.  
Three women met upon the Market day,  
Do make a Market, (they do use to say  
In Italy) and why? their tongues do walk  
As loud, as if an hundred men did talk.  
One hearing this, swore had his wife been there  
And made a fourth, there might have been a Fair.   

517. Man's ingress and egress.  
Nature, which headlong into life did throng us,  
With our feet forwards to our grave doth bring us  
What is less ours, than this our borrowed breath?  
We stumble into life, we go to death.   

518. On bad Debtors.  
Bad debtors are good liars; for they say,  
I'll pay you without fail, on such a day;  
Come is the day, to come the debt is still,  
So still they lie, though stand in debt they will.  
But Fulcus hath so oft lied in this wise,  
That now he lies in Ludgate for his lies.   

519. On a justasse.  
A justice walking o'er the frozen Thames,  
The Ice about him round, began to crack;  
He said to's man, here is some danger, james,  
I pray thee help me over on thy back.   

520. Genitoris nesciens.  
Tom asks no father's blessing, if you note him,  
And wiser he, unless he knew who got him.   

521. To a sleeping Talker.  
In sleep thou talk'st unforethought mysteries,  
And utter'st unforeseen things, with close eyes.  
How well wouldst thou discourse if thou wert dead  
Since sleep, death's image, such fine talk hath bred?   

522. Omne simile non est idem.  
Together as we walked, a friend of mine  
Mistook a painted Madam for a Sign,  
That in a window stood; but I acquainted,  
Told him it was no wooden sign was painted,  
But Madam Meretrix: yea, true, said he,  
Yet 'tis a little sign of modesty.   

523. Tandem manifestum.  
Katherine that hid those Candles out of sight,  
May well conceive they'll come at length to light.   

524. Qui ebrius laudat temperantiam.  
Severus likes not these unseasoned lines  
Of rude absurdities, times foul abuse,  
To all posterities, and their assigns,  
That might have been (saith he) to better use.  
What senseless gull, but reason may convince,  
Or jade so dull, but being kicked will wince?   

525. Quantum mutatus ab illo.  
Would any deem Manasses now the man,  
That whilom was not worth a wooden can.  
Doubtless the Dunce in something doth surpass,  
Yet his red nose is still the same it was.   

526. On wisdom and virtue.  
Wisemen are wiser than goodmen, what then?  
'Tis better to be wiser than wise men.   

527. On Ducus.  
Ducus keeps house, and it with reason stands,  
That he keep house, hath sold away his lands.   

528. Mysus and Mopsa.  
Mysus and Mopsa hardly could agree,  
Striving about superiority:  
The Text which saith that man and wife are one,  
Was the chief Argument they stood upon.  
She held, they both one woman should become:  
He held, they should be man, and both but one.  
So they contended daily, but the strife  
Could not be ended, till both were one wife.   

529. On Photinus.  
I met Photinus at the B— Court,  
Cited (as he said) by a Knave relator:  
I asked him, wherefore? he in laughing sort,  
Told me it was but for a Childish matter.  
How e'er he laughed it out, he lied not;  
Indeed 'twas childish, for the child he got.   

530. On Castriotes.  
See, see, what love is now betwixt each fist,  
Since Castriotes had a scabby wrist:  
How kindly they, by clawing one another,  
As if the left hand were the right hands brother!   

531. New Rhetoric.  
Good Arguments without coin, will not stick;  
To pay, and not to say, 's best Rhetoric.   

532. To some kind Readers.  
This Book of mine I liken to a glass,  
Wherein the fool may look and laugh his fill:  
He having done with't Readers, as ye pass,  
Here take and use it, as long as you will.   

533. Est mihi Divi parens.  
Owinus wondereth, since he came from Wales,  
What the description of this Isle might be;  
That ne'er had seen but mountains, hills, and dales,  
Yet would he stand and boast on's pedigree.  
From Rice ap Richard, sprung from Dick a Cow,  
Be cot, was right good gentleman, law ye now?   

434. Principia sordida.  
Bassus hath Lands good store, and leases Farms,  
Whose Mother, Milk-pails bore, e'er he bore arms.   

535. On Thirsites.  
Although Thirsites have a filthy face,  
And staring eyes, and little outward grace:  
Yet this he hath, to make amends for all,  
Nature herself, is not more natural.   

536. On Zoilus.  
If Soldiers may obtain four Terms of war,  
Muskets should be the pleaders, Pikes the bar;  
For black bags, Bandeliers, Jackets for gowns,  
Angels for fees, we'll take no more cracked crowns.   

537. On a long beard.  
Thy beard is long, better it would thee fit,  
To have a shorter beard, and longer wit.   

538. On myself.  
Who seeks to please all men each way,  
And not himself offend;  
He may begin to work to day,  
But God knows when he'll end.   

539. Nimium ne crede colori.  
Battas believed for a simple truth,  
That yonder gilt-spur spruce and Velvet youth,  
Was some great personage, or worthy weight,  
Until one told him he was but a Knight.  
A Knaight (quoth Battas) vaith ay chud a zworne,  
A hod not been lass then zome Gentleman borne.   

540. Silens simplex.  
Will would seem wise, and many words let pass,  
Speaking but little 'cause he's such an—   

541. To the mis-interpreter.  
Cease gauled back guilt, these inscious lines to mince,  
The world will know y'are rubbed if once ye wince;  
They him within their seeming Critic wall,  
Particularly none; generally all:  
Amongst which if you have chanced to catch a prick  
Cry we-hy if you will, but do not kick.   

542. To Marry Meare.  
Meare, since unmixed, unmaryed, and a maid;  
Then you to be a Mearmaid may be said:  
A Mearmaid's flesh above, and fish below,  
And so may you be too, for aught I know.   

543. Ad Rinaldum amic.  
See, see, Rinaldus! Prithee who is that,  
That wears you great green feather in his Hat,  
Like to some Tilter? sure it is some Knight,  
Whose wits being green, his head must needs be light.   

544. On himself.  
Mirth pleaseth some, to others 'tis offence,  
Some commend plain conceit, some profound sense;  
Some wish a witty jest, some dislike that,  
And most would have themselves, they know not what.  
Then he that would please all, and himself too,  
Takes more in hand then he is like to do.   

545. Finger's end.  
Philomathes once studying to indite,  
Nibbled his fingers, and his nails did bite:  
By this I know not what he did intend,  
Unless his wit lay at his finger's end.   

546. Sapia qui vendit oportet.  
janus doth jesting, use Equivocation,  
Which he alludes as doubtful words of Art,  
To hide the colour of his Occupation,  
But to the Devil he bears an honest heart.   

547. Clamans Asinus.  
Who says Tom Tipstaffe is no man of calling?  
Can any Crier at Sessions be more bawling?   

548. Upon Dunmo.  
I Dunmo asked as we at Supper sat,  
How long he had lived in the married state,  
Sir, just (quoth Dunmo) with my wife I met  
In the great Plague time, I remember yet,  
And sighing, as he would have burst in twain,  
Said, now almost the thirtieth of her reign.   

549. Upon Tom Tolthams' Nose.  
The radiant colour of Tom Toltham's nose,  
Puts down the Lily, and obscures the Rose;  
Had I a Jewel of such precious hue,  
I would present it to some Monarch's view,  
No subject should possess such Gems as those,  
Ergo, the King must have Tom Toltham's nose.   

550. Domina praedominans.  
Ill may Rodolphos boast of rule or riches,  
That lets his wife rule him, and wear the breeches:   

551. Titus the Gallant.  
Brave Titus three years in the Town hath been,  
Yet not the Lions, nor the Tombs hath seen;  
I cannot tell the cause without a smile,  
He hath been in the Counter all this while.   

552. In Lalum.  
Lalus which loves to hear himself discourse,  
Talks to himself as if he frantic were,  
And though himself might no where hear a wors●,  
Yet he no other but himself will hear;  
Stop not his mouth if he be troublesome,  
But stop his ears, and then the man is dumb.   

553. To Criticus.  
Criticus about to kiss a Maiden throng,  
He happened first on one whose nose was long;  
He flouting, said, I fain would kiss you Sweet,  
But that I fear our lips will never meet,  
Your nose stands out so far; the Maiden died  
Her cheeks with Crimson, but soon thus replied,  
Pray sir, then kiss me in that place where I  
To hinder you, have neither nose nor eye.   

554. Profundo Scientia.  
Sal can by silence, deep profundity,  
Force you cry, fough! jeronimo go by.   

555. On two by Sea.  
Two Youngsters going by Sea, th'one  
That ne'er before had been the Sea upon.  
Casts up; and as he heaves, he Bo doth cry;  
O said the other, Sir, y'are sick, ye'll die.  
No (says the Sea-sick) though my stomach's loose,  
You see, I can cry Bornwell unto a Goose.   

556. Vt pluma parsona.  
Why wears Laurentius such a lofty feather?  
Because he's proud, and foolish both together.   

557. Aurum volat ocius Euro.  
Monsieur Flemingo fraught with Angel's store,  
Would see fair London, never seen before:  
Where lodging with his Mistress but one night,  
Had (ere he parted) put them all to flight.   

558. To Pontilianus.  
Dogs on their Master's fawn and leap,  
And wag their tails apace;  
So, though the flatterer want a tail,  
His tongue supplies the place.   

559. Instabilis stans.  
Mat being drunken, much his anger wreaks  
On's wife; but stands to nothing that he speaks.   

560. On some Lawyers.  
Law serves to keep disordered men in awe,  
But Aw preserves orders, and keeps the Law,  
Were Aw away L [awe] yers would liars be  
For Lucre; which they have and hold in fee.   

561. Health.  
Even from my heart, much Health I wish,  
No Health I'll wash with drink,  
Health wished, not washed, in words, not wine,  
To be the best I think.   

562. Case is altered.  
Tom Case (some do report) was lately haltered;  
If this be true, why then the case is altered.   

563. Quae placuit Domino nupta est Ancilla sodali.  
Madam Rugosa knows not were to find  
One Chambermaid of ten to please her mind.  
But yet my Lor● so likes their comely carriage,  
As he prefers them to his men in marriage.   

564. Plagis mitior.  
Katherine that grew so cursed, and fit for no man,  
With beating soon became a gentlewoman.   

565. Priscus.  
When Priscus raised from low to high estate,  
Road through the street in pompous jollity;  
Cajus his poor familiar friend of late,  
Bespoke him thus, Sir now you know not me;  
'Tis likely friend (quoth Priscus) to be so,  
For at this time myself I do not know.   

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

567. 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 jests more plain.  
Thus Fatuus doth jest and play ●he sany,  
To laugh at's self, he's fool if there be any.   

568. In Cineam.  
When Cineas comes amongst his friends in mourning,  
He slily notes, who first his cap doth move;  
Him he salutes, the rest so grimly scorning,  
As if for ever he had lost his love;  
I knowing how the humour it did fit  
Of the fond Gull to be saluted first,  
Catch at my Cap, but move it not a whit,  
Which he perceiving, seems with spite to burst.  
But Cineas, why expect you more of me▪  
Then I of you? I am as good a man,  
And better too by many a quality:  
For vault, and dance, and fence, and rhyme I can:  
You keep a whore at your own charge, men tell me,  
Indeed friend Cineas, therein you excel we.   

569. On Captain Shark.  
One asked a friend where Captain Shark did lie,  
Why sir (quoth he) at ADIV2ate, at the Pie;  
Away, quoth th'other, he lies not there I know't,  
No, says the other, than he lies in's throat.   

570. A witty answer.  
A lean, yet ●at Recusant being confined  
Unto a Justice house, whose wife was great,  
(Not great with child, but hugely great with meat)  
At supper thus began to grope his mind,  
To hoc est corpus what say you? she sed;  
Marry (quoth he) I say it is well feed.   

571. Gossip's discourse.  
When Gillian and her Gossips all are met,  
And in the match of Gossipping down set,  
And plain Mass-Parson cutting bread for th'table  
To tell how fast they talk, my tongue's not able  
One tells strange news, th'other Godsworbet cries,  
The third shakes her head, alack replies,  
She on her Hens, this on her Ducks do talk,  
On thousand things at once their tongues do walk.  
So long as Cocks can tread, and Hens will lay,  
Gill, and Gills Gossips will have words to say.   

572. Capa● incapabilis.  
Produs in's Office seem● a simple Scribe,  
Yet hath he cunning learned to take a Bribe.   

573. A Parson and a Thief.  
A lusty Parson riding on the way,  
Was by a Thief commanded for to stay;  
The Parson drew his sword, for well he durst,  
And quickly put his foe unto the worst.  
Sir (quoth the Thief) I by your habit see  
You are a Churchman, and debate should flee,  
You know 'tis written in the sacred word,  
jesus to Peter said, Put up thy Sword:  
True (quoth the Parson) but withal then hear,  
Saint Peter first had cut off Malchus ear.   

574. Similes habent labra lactucas.  
Dick swash (or swaggering Dick) through Fleetstreet re●les,  
With Si● & Brettice waiting at his heels:  
To one that would have ta'en the wall, he swore,  
Zounds, dost not see my Punk and Paramour?   

575. A Soldier's jest.  
One told told a Soldier sitting at the board,  
(And silent) that he had an edgelesse sword;  
Who strait replied, Sir, I will do my best,  
To break your pate, though I ne'er break a jest.   

576. Good Advice.  
One to a Servingman this Counsel sent,  
To get a Master that's intelligent;  
Then if of him no wages he could get,  
Yet he would understand he's in his debt.   

577. Thiefs.  
Two Thiefs by night began a lock to pick,  
One in the house awake, thus answered quick,  
Why, how now? what a s●ir you there do keep?  
Go, come again, we are not yet asleep.   

578. Ass.  
He that loves glass without a G.  
Leave out L. and what is he?   

579. Enecat amplexu nimio, sic simia foetum.  
Call Davus knave, he straightway draws his sword,  
And makes you prove as much, or eat your word.  
But if you call him honest Rogue, or Jew,  
He hugs you then for giving him his due.   

580. To Festus.  
Festus thouart old, and yet wouldst married be:  
Ere thou do so, this counsel take of me;  
Look into Lilies Grammar, there thou'lt find,  
Cornu a Horn, a word still Vndeclined.   

581. A Gentleman and his Physician.  
A Gentleman not richest in discretion,  
Was always sending for his own Physician.  
And on a time, he needs would of him know,  
What was the cause his pulse did go so slow?  
Why (quoth the Doctor) thus it comes to pass,  
'Tmust needs go slow, which goes upon an Ass.   

582. On Saint George.  
To save a maid Saint George a Dragon slew,  
Which was a noble act, if all be true;  
Some say there are no Dragons; and 'tis said  
There's no Saint George; pray jove there be a maid.   

583. Similis cum simili.  
Tom went to the Market, where Tom met with Tom,  
Tom asked Tom, what Tom? ●ow farest thou Tom?  
Who Tom, I Tom? Is Tom (quoth Tom) you Tom;  
Well God a mercy Tom; how do you Tom?  
Faith ne'● so well (quoth Tom) since Tom was Tom:  
And thus was the greeting passed 'twixt Tom and Tom.   

584. Ebrius oblitus.  
Fucus was foxed last night, but 'tis concealed,  
And would not for his Office 'twere revealed.   

585. Dulce quod utile.  
An honest Vicar riding by the way,  
Not knowing better how to spend the day,  
Did sing unto himself some certain Psalms;  
A blind man hearing him, straight begged his alms;  
To whom (quoth he) with coin I cannot part,  
But God thee bless, good man with all my heart.  
O, said the blind man, greater is my loss,  
When such as you do bless without a cross.   

586. In Dacum.  
Dacus with some good colour and pretence,  
Terms his wife's beau●y silent eloquence;  
For she doth lay more colours on her face,  
Then ever Tully used his speech to grace.   

587. In Sillam.  
Though I were blind, or though I never saw him,  
Yet if I should Silla but talking hear;  
For a right roaring Gallant I should know him,  
For of a whore he talks, and still doth swear.   

588. Varietas iniquit●s.  
Mat will not marry: true, 'cause tied to none,  
He may have wenches new, when th'old are gone.   

589. Good sauce.  
I went to sup with Cinna th'other night,  
And to say true (for give the Devil his right)  
Though scant of meat we could a morsel get,  
Yet there with store of passing sauce we met.  
You ask what sauce, where pittance was so small?  
This, is not hunger the best sauce of all?   

590. Plagis mitior.  
Katherine that grew so cursed and fit for no man,  
With beating soon became a Gentlewoman.   

591. To a Lawyer.  
To go to Law, I have no maw,  
Although my suit be sure,  
For I shall lack suits to my back,  
Ere I my suit procure.   

592. Semel insanivimus.  
Bedlam fate bless thee, thou want'st nought but wit,  
And having gotten that, we're freed from it;  
Bridewell, I cannot any way dispraise thee,  
For thou dost feed the poor, and jerk the lazy.  
Newgate, of thee I cannot much complain;  
For once a month, thou freest men out of pain;  
But from the Counters, goodness itself defend us?  
To Bedlam, Bridewell, or to Newgate send us,  
For there in time, wit, work, or law sets free;  
But here wit, work, nor law gets liberty.   

593. Of himself.  
Some men there be, which say of me,  
That I am not a Poet;  
They say well, why? I do not lie,  
I write the truth; I know it.   

594. Upon Anne's marriage with a Lawyer.  
Anne is an Angel, what if so she be?  
What is an Angel, but a Lawyer's fee?   

595. Aenigma.  
The Devil, men say, in Devonshire died of late,  
But Devonshire lately lived in rich estate,  
Till Rich his toys did Devonshire so bewitch,  
As Devonshire died, and left the Devil Rich.   

596. On Cupid.  
Why feign they Cupid robbed of his sight?  
Can he whose seat is in the eye, want light?   

597. An Answer.  
Experience show, and reason doth decree  
That he who sits in's own light cannot see.   

598. Lucus journey.  
Lucus hath travelled with an hundred pound,  
Was robbed and left well beaten, and fast bound:  
But when to share their prize, they had begun,  
No miracle was wrought, yet he undone.   

599. Of Nature.  
Nature did well in giving poor men wit,  
That fools well monified may pay for it.   

600. Vilescit dives avarus.  
Rufus is wondrous rich, but what of that?  
He lives obscurely, like a Water-Rat.   

601. Visum ignotum.  
That Crambo's wives with child, her belly shows it:  
But who was't got it? pray ask those that know it.   

602. Upon Marriage.  
Marriage as old men note, hath likened been  
Unto a public fast, or common rout,  
Where those that are without would fain get in,  
And those that are within would fain get out.   

603. On Annas a News-monger.  
Annas hath long ears for all news to pass:  
His ears must needs be long, for he's an Ass.   

604. Sir john.  
Now good Sir john (the beggar cries) I pray  
Bestow your Worship's alms on me to day,  
Relieve my wants (quoth he) I am your brother,  
We born are, one to help and aid another;  
My brother (qd. Sir john) poor wretched wight,  
Why, thou mistakest me, I am a Knight;  
I know't, quoth he, but hark you kind Sir john,  
There's many a Knight kin to the beggar men.   

605. Conjectus.  
Conjectus says he'll plainly prove,  
Another's Child he ought to love,  
More than his Parents; which is strange,  
And yet 'tis true; for I protest,  
He ought to love his wife the best.   

606. Aulus.  
Some (speaking in their own renown)  
Say that this Book was not exactly done;  
I care not much, like banquets let my Books,  
Rather be pleasing to the Guests than Cooks,   

607. On envy.  
Why say some, wealth brings envy, since 'tis known  
Poor men have backbiters fifteen for one?   

608. Errantes errare licet.  
Ponderous spends the day by telling news,  
Of such his travels as will make you muse:  
Nay sir believe it, he'll discourse at large,  
How should he else be fed at others charge?   

609. To a Drunkard.  
Much prattling causeth greatest thirstiness:  
Thy wife talks more than thou, why drinks she less.   

610. On Pru.  
Pru give me leave to laugh, why shouldst thou buy  
Ceruse, and Stibium, and Mercury,  
And sleiking Oils, the best that may be got,  
When thy whole face Prue is not worth a groat?   

611. To Momus.  
Leave for shame, Momus, leave to bark and cry,  
My actions give thy slanderous tongue the lie.   

612. To Roba.  
thouart fair, 'tis true; and pretty too, I know it;  
And well bred (Roba) for thy manners show it;  
But whilst thou mak'st self-praise thy only care,  
thouart neither pretty, nor well bred, nor fair.   

613. On Gallo.  
Gallo's a pretty man, hath pretty hair,  
A pretty hat, and cloak as one need wear;  
Gallo's a Gallant, and as Gallant● use,  
Can court his Mistress, with a sprightly Muse:  
Gallo's a dunce, for I supply his wit,  
Which he makes nonsense by his reading it,  
And 'tis no wonder, as all wisemen know,  
For pretty Gallants to be dunces now.   

614. Pudor est sua damna refer.  
Peter hath lost his purse, but will conceal it,  
Lest she that stole it, to his shame reveal it.   

615. Wheele-greace.  
Men th'Axletree do Grease, that they not screak,  
But Lawyers must be Greased to make them speak.   

616. Who best friend.  
A Louse I say, for when a man's distressed,  
And others fall off, she sticks the surest.   

617. O times and manners!  
Why thus do men, manners and times accuse,  
When men themselves, Manners and times abuse?  
weare bad in them, they worse by us do grow,  
Yet we complain that help to make them so.   

618. Carpe.  
Of all our Modern Writers, Carpe likes none,  
He loves th'old Poets that are dead and gone:  
Pardon me honest carp, I would not be  
Laid in my grave a while yet, to please thee.   

619. Non nunquam jactat egenus▪  
jack is a Gentleman I must confess,  
For there's no woman's Tailor can be less.   

620. On Terpin.  
Terpin sips wine, and gluts down meat; I think,  
My Terpin drinks his meat, and eats his drink.   

621. To Phaulo.  
As often (Phaulo) as thou dost amiss,  
Thou hast no more excuse for it, but this,  
It was against thy will; why, be it so,  
Against thy will thou shalt be punished to.   

622. Little, nothing, too much, enough.  
The Poor have little, Beggars none,  
The Rich too much, enough not one.   

623. On Spurco of Oxford.  
Spurco from Chandler, started Aldermen,  
And trust me now most Elder-like he can  
Behave himself: he ne'er appears in Town,  
But in his beaver, & his great fur'd gown:  
His Ruff is set, his head set in his Ruff;  
His reverend trunks become him well enough;  
He wears a hoop ring on his Thumb; he has  
Of Gravidud a dose full in his face:  
And tricked and trimmed, thus bravely he supposes  
Himself another man; but men have noses;  
And they that have so, maugre Spurco's skill,  
Through all his robes may smell the Chandler stil.   

624. On the same.  
Spurco made candles once, 'tis true enough,  
Yet when I told him so, he took't in snuff.   

625. To Damon.  
What cause, what confidence draws thee to town?  
Oxford can yield thee nothing, get thee down;  
Thou canst not turn rogue for thy private ends,  
Thou canst not play the bawd to please thy friends.  
Thou hat'st to sell thy breath at any price,  
Or flatter great ones to their prejudice.  
Whence wilt thou live? (unhappy wretch!) I am  
A trusty friend, thou sayest, an honest man.  
That's nothing, Damon, set thy wits to school,  
Not to be knave here, is to be a fool.   

626. Compotatio.  
Tasso, Torquato, Trew-wit, Manlius,  
Brave merry Greeks all, and ingenious:  
Let us be mad a while: come here thou Squire  
Of Pints and Pottles, pile us up a fire:  
Then bring some sack up, quick you Cannibal,  
Some cleanly sack to wash our brains withal:  
There is I am sure, no other Thespian spring,  
No other Helicon to bathe us in.  
Troul then your sack about boys, never fail,  
Commending dull men to their stands of Ale.  
Tinker's wind off whole pottles in a breath,  
I hate such puddle Coxcombs worse than death;  
But we true bra●● of Bacchus, as our use is,  
With lusty Wines will sacrifice to th'Muses.   

627. Conscientia testis.  
What makes Antonia deem himself undone,  
Being questioned since his Office first begun:  
But that a Conscience tells him quae sumuntur  
Tam male parta, male dilabuntur?   

628. On Terpin.  
Listen who list, my Terpins' nose I sing,  
And much I labour to express the thing:  
For when he snorts, it is his trumpet shrill;  
It is his conduit, for 'tis running still;  
It is his drag, his E●le-spear in the brook;  
His spade, his mattock, and his pruning hook▪  
'Tis a convenient staple for a wall,  
A handsome wedge to cleave his wood withal:  
'Twill make a good ship-anchor when he lacks,  
It is his gimlet, and his twibill axe.  
Regard not then, what m●n thy nose abuses;  
Thy nose is proper Terpin for most uses.   

629. On Ned.  
Have not I friends (quoth Ned) I dare to say,  
I have not supped at home this twelve months' day:  
And very true it is, for shirking Ned,  
At home (poor man) goes supperless to bed.   

630. Pecunia prevalens.  
Hand off, si● saucebox! think you Mistress Phips  
Allows such lobs as you to touch her lips?  
But then 'tis questioned further; if you bring her  
Some legem pone, that's another thing Sir.   

631. On Love.  
Where love begins, there dead they first desire:  
A spark neglected, makes a mighty fire.   

632. A Herculean task.  
To curb the courage and Wife's tongue keep under.  
May well be called Hercules thirteenth wonder.   

633. On Coritia.  
Coritia, when all her Table's set  
With Manchet, Sauches, and good wholesome meat,  
She still gives brown bread to her Son and heir,  
And tells the little boy 'twill make him fair.  
If so (my Love) if it be true you say,  
You never ate brown bread Coritia.   

634. On Drammato.  
Drammato makes new plays great store; and yet  
'Tis plain, Drammato has not too much wit:  
He strives too, to be pleasant, and brings in  
Mimics, and fools, to make the people grin,  
I know not what the rest think, but I say,  
Drammato's the best fool in every play.   

635. Taming of a Shrew.  
Wouldst tame thy wife: first tame her tongue,  
Who thus his wife comes o'er shall overcome.   

636. Liberty.  
If he be well which hath what he can wish,  
Why then do men for stinging Serpents fish?  
True liberty amongst virtues bears the bell;  
He may live as he will, which may live well.   

637. Drammato.  
Of all Drammato's plays that ere I see,  
Nothing could ever make me laugh but he.   

638. On Galba.  
Galba she says, she never tasted Man;  
Galba will lie, believe it, now and than.   

639. To the Reader.  
Such tenor I have kept here all along,  
As none (I hope) can challenge me with wrong.  
I injure not the least, I give no blow  
To any person; he that knows not how  
To scourge man's vice, unless he tax his name,  
Makes a base Libel of an Epigram.   

640. On Formidando.  
Stout Formidando walks imperiously,  
With tragic Bilbo girt upon his thigh;  
His roping locks, his buff becomes him well,  
And to say sooth, he looks right terrible;  
He sways the Town before him, and will slay  
Whatever man he be that dares gainsay:  
But Formidando pawned his coat last night,  
And Formidando's out of money quite;  
Nor oaths will pass, nor credit from henceforth,  
For one poor penny, or a pennyworth:  
Starved Creditors begin to gape; and how  
To quit himself he scarcely knows; that now  
Stout Formidando who was wont to daunt  
Whole thousands, trembles at a Pursuivant.   

641. The German-Dutch.  
Death's not to be: so Seneca doth think:  
But Dutchmen say 'tis death to cease to drink.   

642. Death.  
What Death is, dost thou ask of me?  
Till dead I do not know;  
Come to me when thou hearest I'm dead,  
Then what 'tis I shall show.   

643. On Carp and Manilla.  
Manilla would with Carp be married,  
Manilla's wise I trow:  
But Carp by no means will Manilla wed;  
carps the wiser of the two.   

644. On Carp.  
These are my verses which Carp reads; 'tis known;  
But when Carp makes them nonsense, theyare his own.   

645. To Phaulos.  
Thou art offended (Phaulos) as I hear,  
Because I sometimes call thee whoremaster;  
My nature's blunt, and so will ever be;  
I call a spade a spade, pray pardon me.   

646. To Coracine.  
What Crispulus is that in a new gown,  
All trimmed with loops and buttons up and down?  
That leans there on his arm in private chat  
With thy young wife, what Crispulus is that?  
He's Proctor of a Court, thou sayest, and does  
Some business of my wives: thou brainless goose!  
He does no business of thy wives, not he,  
He does thy business (Coracine) for thee.   

647. On Pru.  
Pru praises her complexion, nay swears  
She dares compare with any of her years;  
And very true it is, that Prudence says,  
I saw not better sold these many days.   

648. The Parrot.  
If lawfuled be, of things t'invent the name;  
With prattling Parrot, prater is the same.   

649. To Maronilla.  
My Maronilla, I could easily spare  
Thy hands and arms, thy shoulders and fraught hair,  
I could well spare thy feet, thy legs and thighs,  
Thy tongue and teeth, thy lips, cheeks, forehead, eyes:  
And not to reckon each part several,  
My Maronilla I could spare thee all.   

650. Study.  
Some men grow mad by studying much to know;  
But who grows mad by studying good to grow?   

651. To Lionel.  
Lionel shows his honourable scars,  
And labours to invite me to the wars:  
But I will not by no means Lionel;  
I do not love to live ill, and drink well.   

652. On Pumilio a Dwarf.  
Pumilio lying in despair  
Of further life, said, take no care  
To make a Tomb for me, good folks,  
I will be buried in a Box.   

653. Sharp sauce.  
Kisses and savours are sweet things,  
But those have thorns, and these have stings.   

654. On Drad-nought.  
Drad-nought was for his many riots laid  
Ith'Counter lately, now he's wondrous stayed.   

655. On Phaulos and Gellia.  
Phaulos he visits, Gellia she's sick:  
I am no Wizard, yet I know their trick.   

656. To his Friend.  
I will not be a Foe to any,  
Nor be familiar with too many;  
And twice I will not love my friend,  
But whom I love, I'll love to th'end.   

657. Married Folke.  
Man love thy wife; thy Husband, wife obey:  
Wives are our Heart, we should be Head always.   

658. On Pru and Galla.  
Why are Prus teeth so white, and Galla's black?  
The reason is soon known:  
Pru buys new teeth as often as she lacks,  
But Galla wears her own.   

659. On Bombo.  
When Bombo preaches (and that's thrice a year)  
Nothing but wit sounds wisely in his ear.  
His ●ustian phrases make a noise; each strain  
And swelling rapture fills his mouth again:  
He's parcell-States-man, parcell-Priest, and so  
If you observe, he's parcel Poet to.  
Bombo thy fetches▪ and thy fangles may  
Become a stage perhaps, but used this way,  
theyare base, and impious: let me prevail,  
Talk till thy strong lines choke thee; if they fail,  
Commence at Tyburn in a cart, sweet Poet,  
And there a strong line will for certain do it.   

660. On Lulls.  
Lulls swears he is all heart, but you'll suppose  
By his Probassis, that he is all nose.   

661. On Paeto.  
Implore the Muses, and their two topped hill,  
Still to supply fresh matter to thy quill:  
Crave Phoebus' aid, call Homer with the throng  
Of all the Bards, Learned Manes, to thy song.  
I dare not (Paeto) be so bold, as do it,  
Nor seem so like what I am not; a Poet.  
My page invokes no deities: here love,  
And indignation the best Muses prove.   

662. On the same.  
My Paeto thinks he sings melodious,  
And like a Swan: alas he's but a Goose.   

663. On Plutus.  
Plutus, rich Plutus would have me b●stow  
Some New-year's gift, as other neighbours do.  
Why I will send thee what thou want'st my friend;  
Nothing thou want'st, and nothing I will send.   

664. To Photion.  
Thou buyest up all that thou canst light upon,  
This is the way to sell all Photion.   

665. To Lividus.  
Do not rail basely, do not swell with spite,  
Do not scoff (Lividus) at what I write:  
For ridden, trust me, I can hardly place,  
Nor bear thee gently like a patient Ass;  
But trot amain, and if thou chance to kick,  
I shall wince too, and gall thee to the quick.  
Flinging full fast till I have thrown thee off,  
Till I have shaken thy snaffle from thy mouth;  
And then in triumph (Lividus) look to't,  
I spurn thy pride and follies under foot.   

666. On his Verses.  
He's blind with love that likes them every one,  
And he is blind with envy, that likes none.   

667. Truth.  
Truth is best found out by the time and eyes;  
Falsehood wins credit by uncertainties.   

668. Time.  
Time all consumes, both us and every thing,  
We time consume; thus, both one song do sing.   

669. To Bombo.  
Most men condemn thee Bombo, when they hear  
Thy high and mighty Sermons, but I swear  
Thou preachest movingly; and well I may;  
Thou preachest all thy Auditors away.   

670. On Plutus.  
Rich Plutus needs would buy a fool, and paid  
Fifty good pounds: but after trial made,  
Perceiving him an understanding man,  
Plutus would have his money back again.   

671. To Linus.  
Thou wast my debtor when I lent the coin,  
Pay me mine own, and then I will be thine.   

672. Leven.  
Love is a Leven, and a loving kiss  
The leven of a loving sweetheart is   

673. To Phaulos.  
Thou ask'st me whom I think best man to be,  
He's the best (Phaulos) that is least like thee.   

674. To Claudius and Linus.  
Ungodly Claudius, to be good,  
Wants nothing but a will:  
Lewd Linus, also, wanteth nought  
But power to be ill.   

675. Hot-waters.  
Our trickling Tears express our private Love,  
Love causeth tears; strange! fire should water prove.   

676. On Grotto.  
Talk but of death, Grotto begins to rage,  
And sweat, and swear, and yet he's blind with age.  
Fie on thee Grotto, what a coil you keep?  
Thy windows they are shut, 'tis time to sleep.   

677. On Boreman.  
Boreman takes toll, cheats, flatters, lies, yet Boreman  
For all the Devil helps, will be a poor man.   

678. On Crab.  
Crab being caught, and in the Sergeants power,  
For shame and anger looked both red and sour.   

679. On Fargo.  
Fargo by his wit and pleasing tongue,  
Hath won a wench that's wondrous fair & young;  
The match (he saith) is half concluded, he  
Indeed is wondrous willing; but not she.   

680. On Richard.  
Dick being drunk, in bed thought on his sin,  
And that lewd course of life he lived in,  
Yet long hereof for thirst, Dick could not think,  
But, Drawer, cries, now for thy smallest drink.   

681. To Spruce.  
Spruce wears a Comb about him, always he  
To prune and smooth his polished hair:  
The Cock's ne'er too without his Comb you see,  
Spruce 'tis a Coxcomb than you wear.   

682. On This Wise age.  
The Wise men were but seven: now we scarce know  
So many fools, the world so wise doth grow.   

683. On Profuso.  
Unstayd Profuso hath run through all,  
Almost the story of the Prodigal,  
Yet swears, he never with the Hogs did dine,  
That's true, for none durst trust him with their swine.   

684. On a fire in Town.  
One night through all the streets the men did cry,  
Fire, fire! at which I waked and wondered by;  
Not that dry wood should burn, but because all  
Did cry fire, when for water they should call.   

685. To either University.  
InduDIV2ent Mother, and kind Aunt, no where  
Throughout all Europe find I such a pair;  
From whose fair breasts those milky rivers run,  
That thousands feed, else thousands were undone.  
Oh were it not that some are weaned too young,  
And some do suck (like● Esse● Calves) too long.   

686. On Mounsieur Congee.  
A proper handsome courtly man indeed,  
And well set out with clothes, can for a need  
Discourse with legs, and quarter congees, and  
Talk half an hour with help of foot and hand;  
But when I viewed this monsieur clean throughout,  
I found that he was only Man without.   

687. To my Reader.  
My person is another as I list,  
I now but act the Epigrammatist.   

688. On Physicians.  
Physicians are most miserable men,  
that cannot be denied:  
For they are never truly well, but when  
mo●● men are ill beside.   

689. On Puff.  
Puff quarrels in his cups, and then will fight,  
Is beaten sober; troth he is served right.   

690. To Flash.  
Flash when thou'rt drunk, then in thy own conceit  
thou'rt valiant, wise, great, honest, rich, discreet.  
Troth Flash be always drunk! for well I know  
When you are sober you are nothing so.   

691. Wittily wicked.  
Good wine (they say) makes Vinegar most ta●t,  
Thou, the more witty, the more wicked art.   

692. A Doctor and his Patient.  
A Doctor told his patient Omphida;  
The grief she felt was a Sciatica:  
Which she not perfect how to nominate,  
Mistaking cries, O my Certificate!   

693. On monsieur Powder-wig.  
Oh do but mark you crisped Sir you meet!  
How like a Pageant he doth stalk the street?  
See how his perfumed head is powdered o'er:  
Twued stink else, for it wanted Salt before.   

694. To Rash.  
Rash swear not! think not 'cause you swear that I  
Believe you, no: he that will swear will lie.   

695. Drunk-bounty.  
I'll tell you why the drunk so lavish are,  
They have too much, nay more than they can bear.   

696. To Gut.  
Gut eats and drinks, doth nothing else but swill,  
His teeth do grind, his mouth's the water-mill.   

697. To Simple.  
Simple, you know I gave you good advice;  
Little to say, that men might think you wise;  
If you'll proclaim yourself a fool you may:  
I only tell you now what others say.   

698. On Quaff.  
To quench his sorrows Quaff drinks very free,  
Sorrow is dry, he says, and so is he.   

699. To Tom Coriat.  
Of all the Toms that ever yet were named,  
Was never Tom like as Tom Coriat famed.  
Tom Thumb is dumb, until the pudding creep,  
In which he was entombed, then out doth peep.  
Tom Fool may go to School, but ne'er be taught  
Speak Greek, with which our Tom his tongue is ●raught.  
Tom Ass may pass, but for all his long ears,  
No such rich Jewels as our Tom he wears.  
Tom Telltruth is but forth, but truth to tell,  
Of all Toms, this Tom, bears away the bell.   

700. To a fat Usurer.  
Fat folks we say by nature are most free:  
You and your purse are fat, and yet I see  
Your hand and that still shut, the reasons this;  
In costive flesh thy lean soul buried is.   

701. On Brisk.  
Brisk bragged of's ready wit; I tempting him  
But for one Distich, did propound this theme  
Nothing: I● cannot be, he wondering said  
That out of nothing aught should ere be made.  
Dull Brisk thou ne'er couldst tune Apollo's Lyre;  
A pure steeld-wit, will strike Mercurial fire  
Out of the flintiest subject: but thy head  
Is all composed of softer mettle, lead.   

702. Semel insanivimus omnes.  
Thus have I waded through a worthless task,  
Whereto I trust there's no exception ta'en,  
For meant to none, I answer such as ask,  
'Tis like apparel made in Birchen-lane;  
If any please to suit themselves and wear it,  
The blame's not mine, but theirs that needs will bear it.   

703. On Sullen.  
Sullen will eat no meat, but peevishly  
Replies, I care not, nor I will not, I:  
Troth I commend his abstinence, 'tis great,  
When having such a stomach he'll not eat.   

704. To Banks.  
When Spendall asks to borrow, you reply,  
You know not when he'll pay you; troth nor I.   

705. To Boldface.  
Boldface, I wonder at thy impudence,  
That darest affirm things so against all sense:  
For shame bened impudent and foolish too!  
And think all men are fools 'cause you are so.   

706. Of his Book.  
Part of the work remains; one part is past:  
And here my Ship rides, having Anchor cast.   

707. On Bearill.  
Bearill because his wife is somewhat ill,  
Uncertain in her health, indifferent still;  
He turns her out of doors without reply:  
Wondering at which, I asked the reason why?  
In sickness and in health, says he, I'm bound  
Only to keep her, either weak or sound;  
But now she's neither, he replies; you'll see,  
she'll quickly now or mend or end, says he.   

708. On Bib.  
Wisdom doth teach us silence, now Bib is  
With drink made speechless, is he not then wise   

709. On Silly.  
Silly by chance did lose his Diary  
Of wit, which he had got in company:  
No marvel he now so mute and pensive sits,  
How can he choose, since he hath lost his wits.   

710. Ad sesquipidales poetastros.  
Hence Brauron's God to Tauriminion,  
And you Levaltoring Corybants be gone;  
Fly thundering Bronsterops to Hippocrene,  
And Mauros to Nymph-nursing Mytelene;  
Grisly Megaera's ne●romantique spell  
Depart to black night's Acherontic cell:  
Avaunt transformed Epidaurian,  
Unto th'antipode Isles of Trabroban,  
Away Cyllenius plumy-pinnioned God,  
With thy peace making wand, snakecharming rod,  
And all the rest not daring look upon  
Uranus' blood-born brood, and fell Typhon;  
Chimera's victor great Bellerophon,  
Thou vanquisher of Spanish Geryon.  
Stout Asdrubal Sicilian Lord of yore,  
Thou that destroy'dst the Caledonian bore,  
Courageous conqueror of Cretes Minotaur,  
Thou pride of Mermeno's cloudy Semitaure.  
Perseus whose marble stone transforming shield,  
Enforced the Whale, Andromeda to yield,  
You Argonauts that scoured Syndromades,  
And passed the quicksands of Symplegades,  
Help Demogorgon, King of heaven and earth,  
Chaos, Lucina, at Litigiums' birth,  
The world with child looks for delivery  
Of Cannibals, or Poetophagy.  
A devilish brood from Ericthonius,  
From Iphidemia, Nox, and Erebus,  
Chide Pegasus for opening Helicon,  
And Poets damn Pyry-Phlegeton;  
Or make this monstrous birth abortive be,  
Or else I will shake hands with Poetry. 
— Nihil sic nisi Carmina desunt.     

 
Marmora Maeonii vincunt menumenta libelli;  
Vivitur ingenio, caetera mortis erunt.  
The Muse's works stone-Monumen●● outlast;  
'Tis wit keeps life, all else Death will down cast.  
EPITAPHS.  

1. On a Liar.  
GOod passenger! here lies one here,  
That living did lie every where.   

2. On a Dyer.  
He lives with God none can deny,  
That while he lived to th'world did die.   

3. On a juggler.  
Death came to see thy tricks, and cut in twain  
Thy thread, why didst not make it whole again?   

4. On Mr. Fish.  
Worm's bait for Fish, but here is a great change,  
Fish bait for worms, is not that very strange?   

5. On a Child.  
A child and dead? alas! how could it come?  
Surely thy thread of life was but a thrumme.   

6. On Mr. Do.  
Do is my name, and here I lie,  
My Grammar tells me, Do fit Di.   

7. On Tailor a Sergeant, killed by a Horse.  
A Taylour is a Thief, a Sergeant is worse,  
Who here lies dead, god-a-massy Horse.   

8. On Mr. Thomas Best.  
With happy stars he sure is blest,  
Where ne'er he goes, that still is Best.   

9 On Robin.  
Round Robin's gone, and this grave doth enclose  
The pudding of his doublet and his hose.   

10. On Bell the Tinker.  
Bell though thou didst decrepit, lame, forlorn,  
Thou was't a man of Mettle, I'll be sworn.   

11. On proud Tygeras'.  
Proud and foolish, so it comes to pass,  
He lived a Tiger, and he died an Ass.   

12. On john Cofferer.  
Here lies john Cofferer, and takes his rest,  
Now he hath changed a Coffer for a Chest   

13. On blind and deaf Dick Freeman.  
Here lies Dick Freeman,  
That could not hear nor see man.   

14. On a Miller.  
Death without warning was as bold as brief,  
When he killed two in one, Miller and Thief.   

15. On a Lady.  
Here lies one dead under this marble stone,  
Who when she lived, lay under more than one.   

16. On a Wrestler.  
Death to the Wrestler gave a pretty fall,  
Tripped up his heels, and took no hold at all.   

17. On john Death.  
Here's Death interred, that lived by bread,  
Then all should live, now Death is dead.   

18. On an Infant.  
The reeling world turned Poet, made a Play;  
I came to see's, disliked it, went my way.   

19 On a little but very ingenuous youth.  
Grim Death perceiving, He had far out ran  
The elder youth●; mistook him for a man.   

20. On a Lady dying quickly after her Husband.  
He first deceased, she a little tried  
To live without him, liked it not, and died.   

21. On Mr. Stone.  
Jerusalem's curse is not fulfilled in me,  
For here a stone upon a stone you see.   

22. On Mr. Strange.  
Here lies one Strange, no Pagan, Turk, nor Jew,  
It's strange, but not so strange as it is true.   

23. A Forts Epitaph.  
Reader, it was born, and cried,  
Cracked so, smelled so, and so died.   

24. On Mr. Anguish a scholar.  
Some do for anguish weep, for anger I,  
That ignorance should live, and art should die.   

25. On a lovely young youth.  
From thy quick death, conclude we must,  
The fairest flowers are gathered first.   

26. On Mr. Thomas A●len.  
No Epitaphs need make the just man famed,  
The good are praised when they are only named.   

27. On a Lady.  
Finis and Bonum are converted, so,  
That every good thing to an end must go.   

28. On a pious Benefactor.  
The Poor, the World, the Heavens, and the Grave,  
His Alms, his Praise, his Soul, and Body have.   

29. On a Poet in Prison.  
Though I in prison here do lie,  
My Muse shall live although I die.   

30. On a poor Poet.  
Here lies the Poet buried in the night,  
Whose purse, men know it, was exceeding light.   

31. A man and his wife.  
Viator siste, ecce miraculum!  
Virro & uxor hic non ligitunt.   

32. On a Pauls-walker.  
Defessus sum ambulando.   

33. On a Scrivener.  
May all men by these presents testify,  
A lurching Scrivener here fast bound doth lie.   

34. On one that cheated his Father.  
Here lies a man, who in a span  
Of life, beyond his Father ran.   

35. On a Cutpurse.  
Death hath that Cutpurse seized on at Alhallows,  
Who by good hap hath so escaped the Gallows.   

36. On a young great wit.  
Great wits are dangerous, for then,  
It seems, they seldom come to men.   

37. On an Usurer.  
That all those goods and riches scraped together,  
Should with himself depart, & knows not whither.   

38. On a Captain.  
Who late in wars did dread no foes in field,  
Now free of scars his life in peace doth yield.   

39 On a Potter.  
He that on clay his chiefest trust reposed,  
Is now in clay, in stead of dust reposed.   

40. On a Merchant.  
Who from accounts and reckoning ne'er could rest,  
At length hath summed up his Quietus est.   

41. On a young man newly married, died.  
The world and thou art quickly gone about,  
That but now en●ring in, art entered out.   

42. On john Friend.  
How ere he failed in's life, 'tis like jack Friend  
Was no man's foe but's own, and there's an end.   

43. On Christopher Fowler.  
Let all say what they can, '●is known Kit Fowle●  
Was held an honest man, though no good Bowler   

44. On Dorothy Rich.  
Here resteth young Doll Rich, that dainty drab,  
Who troubled long with itch, died of the scab.   

45. On Ralph.  
Ralph bids adieu to pleasures good or ill,  
But tells you true, 'tis much against his will.   

46. On Walter Moon.  
Here lies Wat Moon, that great Tobacconist,  
Who died too soon for lack of had I wist.   

47. On john Cooling a Player-foole.  
Death hath too soon removed from us Io. Cooling,  
That was so well beloved, and lived by fooling.   

48. On a Welshman.  
Who living least▪ espied his life should lose,  
By mere Metheglin died; and toasted Cheese.   

49. On Io. Long.  
Here sleep I. Long, who lived till New-year●-tide,  
Full fourscore strong, but then fell sick and died.   

50. On Stephen Spooner.  
Death hath time borrowed of our neighbour Spooner.  
Whose wife much sorrowed that he died no sooner.   

51. On a Lawyer.  
God works wonders now and than,  
Here lies a Lawyer died an honest man.   

52. On a Waterman.  
Here sleep● Will Slater, why? by death's command,  
Hath left the water to possess the land.   

53. On Sir Francis Drake.  
England his heart, his Corpse the waters have,  
And that which raised his fame, became his grave.   

54. On a Gallant.  
Who cloth of Tissue wore, here flat doth lie,  
Having no issue, more than that in's thigh.   

55. On john Garret.  
Gone is john Garret, who to all men's thinking,  
For love to Claret, killed himself with drinking.   

56. On notable Ned.  
'Cause of the good nought must be said but good,  
'Tis well for Ned that nought he understood.   

57 On a Tailor who died of the stitch.  
Here lies a Tailor in this ditch,  
Who lived and died by the stitch.   

58. On a travelling Beggar.  
Here lies a Vagrant person whom our laws  
(Of late grown strict) denied passage, 'cause  
He wand'ring thus, therefore return he must,  
From whence at first he hither came; to dust.   

59 On a Mason.  
So long the Mason wrought on others walls,  
That his own house of clay to ruin falls:  
No wonder, spiteful death wrought his annoy,  
He used to build, and death seeks to destroy.   

60. On a Schoolmaster.  
The Grammar School, a long time taught I have,  
Yet all my skill could not Decline the grave,  
But yet I hope it one day will be shown  
In no Case save the Ablative alone.   

61. On Prince Henry.  
I have no vein in Verse, but if I could  
Distil on every word a Pearl, I would.  
Our sorrows pearls drop, not from pens, but eyes,  
Whilst other Muses write, mine only cries.   

62. On the death of Mr. Newcomin of Clare-hall in Cambridge.  
Weep ye Clarenses, weep all about,  
For Newcomin is new gone out;  
Weep not Clarenses, weep not a● all,  
He's gone but from Clare to Trinity-Hal.   

63. On Hobson the Carrier.  
Hobson (what's out of sight, is out of mind)  
Is gone and left his Letters here behind,  
He that with so much paper used to meet  
Is now, alas! content to take one sheet.   

64. Another.  
He that such carriage store, was wont to have,  
Is carried now himself unto his grave:  
O strange! he that in life ne'er made but one,  
Six Carriers makes, now he is dead and gone.   

65. Another.  
Here Hobson lies, pressed with a heavy load,  
Who now is gone the old and common road;  
The waggon he so loved, so loved to ride,  
That he was drawing on whilst that he died.   

66. Another.  
Hobson's not dead, but Charles the Northern Swain  
Hath sent for him to draw his lightsome wain.   

67. On a Footman.  
This nimble Footman ran away from death,  
And here he rested being out of breath;  
Here death him over-took, made him his slave,  
And sent him on an errand to the grave.   

68 justus Lipsius.  
Some have high mountains of Parian stone,  
And some in brass carve their inscription,  
Some have their Tombs of costly marbles reared;  
But in our tears only are they interred.   

69. On a Child.  
Like Birds of prey,  
Death snatch away,  
This harmless Dove,  
Whose soul so pure  
Is now secure  
In heaven above.   

70. On a rich Gentleman.  
Of woods and plains, and hills and vales,  
Of fields, of meads, of parks, and pales;  
Of all I had, this I possess;  
I need no more, I have no less.   

71. On a Child.  
That flesh is grass  
Its grace a flower,  
Read ere you pass  
Whom worms devour.   

72. On a Lock-smith.  
A zealous Lock-smith died of late,  
Who by this time's at heaven gate.  
The reason why he will not knock,  
Is 'cause he means to pick the lock.   

73. On a Collier.  
Here lies the Collier jenkin Dashes,  
By whom death nothing gained he swore,  
For living he was dust and ashes,  
And being dead he is no more.   

74. On Dick Pinner.  
Here lies Dick Pinner, O ungentle death!  
Why didst thou rob Dick Pinner of his breath?  
For living, he by scraping of a pin,  
Made better dust than thou hast made of him.   

75. On a Sack-sucker.  
Good Reader bless thee, be assured,  
The spirit of Sack lies here immured:  
Who havocked all he could come by  
For Sack, and here quite sacked doth lie.   

76. On a Child.  
Into this world as stranger to an Inn,  
This Child came Guestwise, where when it had been  
A while, and found nought worthy of his stay,  
He only broke his fast, and went away.   

77. On a Candle.  
Here lies the Chandler's chiefest joy,  
Here lies the Scholars pale-faced boy;  
Having nought else but skin and bone  
Died of a deep Consumption.   

78. On T. H. the Pannier-man of the Temple.  
Here lies Tom Hacket this Marble under,  
Who often made the Cloister's thunder;  
He had a horn, and when he blew i●,  
Called many a Cuckold that never knew it.   

79. On a young Infant.  
The life of Man  
Is but a span,  
The common saying is;  
But death did pinch  
His to an inch,  
Ere he could say, what's this?  
Yet he hath gained, not lost, thereby  
Changing time for eternity.   

80. On Mr. Calf's death.  
Heaven of his soul take charge, for he,  
Of all his days lived but the half;  
Who might have grown to be an Ox,  
But died (as you see) a Calf.   

81. On Bolus.  
If gentleness could tame the Fates, or wit  
Delude them, Bolus had not died yet;  
But one that death o'r-rules in judgement sits,  
And says our sins are stronger than our wits.   

82. On a Clown.  
Softly tread this earth upon,  
For here lies our Corydon:  
Who through care to save his sheep  
Watched too much, Oh let him sleep!   

83. On a Child.  
As careful Nurses on their beds do lay,  
Their babes which would too long the wantoness play,  
So to prevent my youths ensuing crimes,  
Nature my Nurse laid me to bed betimes.   

85. On a Musician.  
Be not offended at our sad complaint,  
You Choir of Angels, that have gained a Saint;  
Where all perfection met in skill and voice,  
We mourn our loss, but yet commend your choice.   

85. On a Gardener.  
Could he forget his death that every hour  
Was emblem'd to it, by the fading flower?  
Should he not mind his end? yes, sure he must,  
That still was conversant amongst beds of dust.   

86. On a Drunkard.  
Bibax the Drunkard, while he lived would say,  
The more I drink, the more methinks I may;  
But see how death hath proved his saying just,  
For he hath drunk himself as dry as dust.   

87. On a Child.  
Tread softly passenger, for here doth lie,  
A dainty Jewel of sweet Infancy:  
A harmless babe, that only came and cried  
In baptism to be washed from sin, and died.   

88 Another.  
In this marble Casket lies  
A matchless Jewel of rich pri●e,  
Whom nature in the world's disdain  
But showed, and put it up again.   

89. On Mr. Sands.  
Who would live in others breath?  
Fame deceives the dead man's trust,  
When our names do change by death,  
Sands I was, and now am dust.   

90. On Mr. Goad.  
Go add this Verse, to Goad's hearse,  
For Goad is gone, but whither?  
Goad himself is gone to God,  
'Twas death's Goad drove him thither.   

91. On Monday.  
Hallowed be the Sabbath  
And farewell all worldly pelf;  
The week begins on Tuesday,  
For Monday hath hanged himself.   

92. On a Child.  
Here a pretty Baby lies  
Sung asleep with Lullabies:  
Pray be silent, and not stir  
Th'easy earth that covers her   

93. On a Matron.  
Here lies a wife was chaste, a mother blest;  
A modest Matron, all these in one chest:  
Sarah unto her Mate, Mary to God,  
Martha to men, whilst here she had abode.   

94. In Latin thus.  
Vxor casta, Parens felix, Matrona pudica,  
Sara viro, mundo Martha, Maria Deo.   

95. On a Soldier.  
When I was young, in Wars I shed my blood,  
Both for my King, and for my Country's good:  
In elder years, my care was chief to be  
Soldier to him that shed his blood for me.   

96. On Mr. Dumbelow, that died of the wind Colic.  
Dead is Dick Dumbelow  
Would you the reason know?  
Could his tail have but spoken,  
His stout heart had not broken.   

97. On Mr. Kitchins death.  
Kitchen lies here (for so his name I found)  
I see Death keeps his Kitchen under ground.  
And the poor worms (that flesh of late did eat)  
Devour their Kitchen now for want of meat.   

98. On Isabel a Courtesan.  
He who would write an Epitaph,  
Whereby to make fair Is'bell laugh,  
Must get upon her, and write well,  
Here underneath lies Isabell.   

99 On a virtuous wife.  
In brief, to speak thy praise, let this suffice,  
Thou wert a wife most loving, modest, wise,  
Of children careful, to thy neighbour's kind,  
A worthy Mistress, and of liberal mind.   

100 On Mr. Christopher Lawson.  
Death did not kill unjustly this good man,  
But death, in death, by death did show his power,  
His pious deeds and thoughts to heaven foreran,  
There to prepare his soul a blessed bower.   

101. On a Welshman.  
Here lies puryed under these stones,  
Shone ap Williams, ap Shinkyn, ap Shones,  
Her was born in Whales, her was killed in France,  
Her went to Cot by a very mis-shance.  
La ye now.   

102. On Mr. Carter, burnt by the great powder-mischance in Finsbury.  
Here lies an honest Carter (yet no clown)  
Unladen of his cares, his end the Crown,  
Vanished from hence, even in a cloud of smoke,  
A blown-up Citizen, and yet not broke.   

103. On a Lady dying in Childbed.  
Born at the first to bring another forth,  
She leav● the world, to leave the world her worth:  
Thus Phoenixlike, as she was born to bleed,  
Dying herself, renews it in her seed.   

104. On a Falconer.  
Death with her talon● having seized this prey,  
After a tedious flight, trus●'d him away:  
We marked him, here he fell, whence he shall rise  
At call, till then unretrived here he lies.   

105. On joan Truman who had an issue in her leg.  
Here lies crafty joan, deny it who can,  
Who lived a false maid, and died a Truman,  
And this trick she had, to make up her cunning,  
Whilst one leg stood still, the other was running.   

106. On a youth.  
Now thou hast heaven for merit, but 'tis strange,  
Morality should envy at thy change:  
God thought us unfit for such as thee,  
And made thee consort of eternity.  
We grieve not then that thou to heaven art taken▪  
But that thou hast thy friends so soon forsaken.   

107. On Prince Henry.  
Did he die young? O no, it could not be,  
For I know few that lived so long as he,  
Till God and all men loved him; then behold,  
The man that lives so long, must needs be old.   

108. On— borne before his time.  
Grieved at the world and times, this early Bloom  
Looked round, and sighed, and stole into his Tomb,  
His fall was like his Birth, too quick; this Rose  
Made haste to spread, and the same haste to close:  
Here lies his dust, but his best Tombs fled hence,  
For Marble cannot last like Innocence.   

109. On a very fat man.  
Under this pebble stone,  
Here fast sleepeth one,  
And that is not two;  
Yet was without doubt  
Far bigger about,  
Then both I, and you;  
His kidneys increased  
So much, that his waist  
Was hooped all round:  
But his girdle death cuts,  
And down fell his guts,  
'Bouts heels to the ground.   

110. On john Neuter.  
Reader, john Neuter who erst played  
The Jack on both sides, here is laid  
Who like the herb john indifferent  
Was not for King, or Parliament,  
Yet fast and loose he could not play  
With death, he took him at a Bay;  
What side his soul hath taken now  
God or Devil? we hardly know:  
But this is certain, since he died  
He hath been missed of neither side.   

111. On Hocas Pocas.  
Here Hocas lies with his tricks and his knocks,  
Whom death hath made sure as his Juggler's box:  
Who many hath cozened by his leigerdemain,  
I● presto conveyed and here underlain:  
Thus Hocas he's here, and here he is not,  
While death played the Hocas, and brought him to th'pot.   

112. On a Child of two years old, being born and dying in July.  
Here is laid a july flower  
With surviving tears bedewed,  
Not despairing of that hour  
When her spring shall be renewed;  
Ere she had her summer seen,  
She was gathered fresh & green.   

113. On a Cobbler.  
Death at a Cobbler's door oft made a stand,  
And always found him on the mending hand;  
At last came death in very foul weather,  
And ripped the sole from the upper leather:  
Death put a trick upon him, and what was't?  
The Cobbler called for's Awl, death brought his last.   

114. On a young Gentlewoman.  
Nature in this small volume was about  
To perfect what in woman was left out:  
Yet careful lest a piece so well begun,  
Should want preservatives when she had done:  
Ere she could finish what she undertook,  
Threw dust upon it, and shut up the Book.   

115. On a Scholar.  
Forbear Friend t'unclaspe this book,  
Only in the forefront look,  
For in it have errors been,  
Which made the Author call it in:  
Yet know this, 't shall have more worth,  
At the second coming forth.   

116. On a young Woman.  
The body which within this earth is laid,  
Twice six weeks knew a wife, a Saint, a maid;  
Fair maid, chaste wife, pure Saint, yet 'tis not strange  
She was a woman, therefore pleased to change:  
And now she's dead, some woman doth remain,  
For still she hopes once to be changed again.   

117. On Brawn.  
Here Brawn the quondam beggar lies,  
Who counted by his tale,  
Full sixscore winters in his life;  
Such virtue is in Ale.  
Ale was his meat, Ale was his drink,  
Ale did him long reprieve,  
And could he still have drunk his Ale,  
He had been still alive.   

118. On a Candle.  
Here lies (I wot) a little star  
That did belong to jupiter,  
Which from him Prometheus stole,  
And with it a fire-coale.  
Or this is that I mean to handle,  
Here doth lie a farthing Candle,  
That was loved well, having its light,  
But losing that, now bids good night.   

119. On M. R.  
Who soon dies, lives long enough,  
Our life is but a blast or puff.  
I did resist and strive with death,  
But soon he put me out of breath;  
He of my life thought to bereave me,  
But I did yield only to breathe me.  
O'er him I shall in triumph sing,  
Thy conquest Grave, where is thy sting?   

120. On a Child.  
Here she lies a prtty bud,  
Lately made of flesh and blood:  
Who, as soon, fell fast asleep,  
As her little eyes did peep;  
Give her strew; but not stir  
The earth that lightly covers her.   

121. On an Innkeeper.  
It is not I that die, I do but leave an Inn,  
Where harbouned was with me, all filthy kind of sin;  
It is not I that die▪ I do but now begin  
Into etenall ●oy by faith to enter in.  
Why weep you then my friends, my parents, and my kin?  
Lament ye when I lose, but weep not when I win.   

122. On a Cobbler.  
Come hither, read my gentle friend,  
And here behold a Cobbler's end.  
Longer in length his life had gone,  
But that he had no Last so long;  
O mighty Death, whose dart can kill  
The man that made him souls at wil●   

123. On M. Aire.  
Under this stone of Marble fair,  
Lies th'body ' ntombed of Gervase Aire.  
He died not of an ●gue-fit,  
Nor surfeited of too much wit,  
Me thinks this was a wondrous death,  
That Air should die for want of breath   

124. On Mr. Rice. M.  
Who can doubt (Rice) to what eternal place  
Thy soul is fled, that did but know thy face?  
Whose body was so light it might have gone  
To heaven without a resurrection;  
Indeed thou wert all type, thy limbs were signs,  
Thy Arteries but Mathematic lines;  
As if two souls had made the compound good,  
Which both should live by faith, & none by blood.   

125. On Thomas jones.  
Here for the nonce  
Came Thomas jonce  
In St. jileses' Church to lie,  
None welsh before,  
None Welshman more  
Till Shone Clerk die.  
I'll toll the bell,  
I'll ring his knell,  
He died well,  
He's saved from Hell:  
And so farewell  
Tom jonce.   

126. On a young man.  
Surprised by grief and sickness here I lie,  
Stopped in my middle age, and soon made dead,  
Yet do not grudge at God, if soon thou die,  
But know he trebles favours on thy head.  
Who for thy morning work equals thy pay,  
With those that have endured the heat oth'day.   

127. On the two Littleton's that were drowned at Oxford, 1636.  
Here lie we (Reader, canst thou not admire?)  
Who both at once by water died and fire,  
For whilst our bodies perished in the deep,  
Our souls in love burnt, so we fell asleep:  
Let this be then our Epitaph: Here lies  
Two, yet but one, one for the other dies.   

128. On a Butler.  
That death should thus from hence our Butler catch,  
Into my mind it cannot quickly sink;  
Sure death came thirsty to the buttery-hatch,  
When he (that busied was) denied him drink.  
Tut! 'twas not so, 'tis like he gave him liquor,  
And death made drunk, him made away the quicker;  
Yet let not others grieve too much in mind  
(the Butler's gone) the keys are left behind.   

129. On M. Cook.  
To God, his Country, and the poor, he had  
A zealous soul, free heart, and liberal mind.  
His wife, his Children, and his kindred sad,  
Lack of his love, his care and kindness find:  
Yet are their sorrows assuaged with the thought  
He hath attained the happiness he sought.   

130. On a Porter.  
At length by works of wondrous fate,  
Here lies the Porter of Winchester-gate:  
If gone to heaven, as much I fear:  
He can be but a Porter there:  
He feared not hell so much ●or's sin,  
As for th'great rapping, and oft coming in.   

131. Upon one who died in Prison.  
Reader, I lived, inquire no more,  
Left a spy enter in at door,  
Such are the times, a dead man dare  
Not trust nor credit common air,  
But die and lie Entombed here,  
By me, I'll whisper in thine ear  
Such things as only dust to dust  
(And without witness) may entrust.   

132. On Waddam College Butler.  
Man's life is like a new-tunned Cask they say,  
The foremost draught, is oft times cast away,  
Such are our younger years, the following still  
Are more and more inclining unto ill;  
Such is our manhood, until age at length,  
Doth sour its sweetness, & doth stop its strength:  
Then death prescribing to each thing its bounds,  
Takes what is lef●, and turns it all to grounds.   

133. On a Horse.  
Here lies a Horse, who died but  
To make his Master go on foot.  
A miracle should it be so:  
The dead to make the lame to go;  
Yet Fate would have it, that the same  
Should make him go, that made him lame.   

134. On an old Man a Residenciary.  
Tread, Sirs, as lightly as you can  
Upon the grave of this old man.  
Twice forty (bating but one year,  
And thrice three weeks) he lived here.  
Whom gentle fate translated hence  
To a more happy Residence.  
Yet, Reader let me tell thee this,  
(Which from his Ghost a promise is)  
If here ye will some few tears shed,  
He'll never haunt ye now he's dead.   

135. On a Maid.  
Here she lies (in Bed spice)  
Fair as Eve in Paradise.  
For her beauty it was such  
Poets could not praise too much.  
Virgins come, and in a Ring  
Her supremest Requium sing;  
Then depart, but see ye tread  
Lightly, lightly o'er the dead.   

136. On Husband and Wife.  
To these, whom Death again did wed,  
This Grave's the second Marriagebed.  
For though the hand of Fate could force,  
'twixt soul and body a Divorce;  
It could not sever Man and wife,  
Because they both lived but one life;  
Peace, good Reader, do not weep,  
Peace the Lovers are asleep:  
They (sweet Turtles) folded lie,  
In the last knot that love could tie.  
Let them sleep, let them sleep on,  
Till this stormy night be gone.  
And th'eternal morrow dawn,  
Then the Curtains will be drawn,  
And they waken with that light,  
Whose day shall never sleep in night.   

137. On Aretyne.  
Here biting Aretyne lies buried▪  
With gall more bitter, never man was fed.  
The living nor the dead to carp he spared,  
Nor yet for any King or Caesar cared:  
Only on God to rail he had forgot,  
His answer was, indeed I know him not.   

138. On William Coale an Alehousekeeper, at Coaton near Cambridge.  
Doth William Coale lie here? henceforth be stale,  
Be strong and laugh on us, thou Coaten Ale:  
Living indeed, he with his violent hand  
Never left grasping thee, while he could stand.  
But death at last, hath with his fiery flashes  
Burnt up the Coal, and turned it into ashes.   

139. On one Andrew Leigh, who was vexed with a shrewd wife.  
Here lies Leigh, who vexed with a shrewd wife,  
To gain his quiet, parted with his life;  
But see the spite! she that had always crossed  
Him living, dies, and means to hunt his Ghost.  
But she may fail, for Andrew out of doubt  
Will cause his brother Peter shut her out.   

140. In quendam.  
Stay mortal, stay, remove not from this Tomb,  
Before thou hast considered well thy doom;  
My bow stands ready bend, and couldst i● see,  
Mine arrow's drawn to th'head, and aims at thee:  
Prepare yet wand'ring Ghost, take home this line;  
The grave that next is opened may be thine.   

141. On a virtuous youth.  
Reader, let a stone thee tell  
That in this body there did dwell  
A'soule, as heavenly, rich, and good,  
As e'er could live in flesh and blood:  
And therefore heaven that held it dear,  
Did let it stay the less while here,  
Whose Corpse here sacred ashes makes;  
Thus heaven and earth have parted stakes.   

142. On a Cock-master.  
Farewell stout Hotspur, now the battle's done,  
In which th'u'rt foiled, and death hath overcome,  
Having o'r-matched thy strength that made thee stoop  
She quickly forced thee on the pit to droop:  
From whence thou ar● not able rise or stir;  
For death is now become the vanquisher.   

143. On a Mathematician.  
Lo●, in small closure of this earthly bed,  
Rests he, that heavens vast motions measured,  
Who having known both of the Land and sky,  
More than famed Archimede, or Ptolemy,  
Would further press, and like a Palmer went,  
With Jacob's staff, beyond the Firmament.   

144. On a Tailor.  
jack Snip the tailor's dead, 'tis now too late  
To brawl or wrangle with the cruel fate,  
Yet sure 'twas hardly done to clip his thread,  
Before he gave them leave, in his own bed.  
He died at forty just; poor shred of base  
Mortality! who pities not his case?  
Of a whole ell of cloth, he would not take  
Above a nail at most, for conscience sake:  
But of his span of life, I dare to say,  
Death stole not much less than one half away;  
And Cowardlike, just when he was not well,  
With his own bodkin (pitiful to tell)  
He board a hole through him, that all his men  
And Prentices could not stitch up again.   

143. On his Mistress Death.  
Unjustly we complain of Fate,  
For shortening our unhappy days,  
When death doth nothing but translate,  
And print us in a better phrase.  
Yet who can choose but weep? Not I:  
That beauty of such excellence,  
And more virtue than could die,  
By deaths rude hand is vanished hence.  
Sleep blessed creature in thine urn,  
My sighs, my tears, shall not awake thee.  
I but stay until my turn;  
And then, O then! I'll overtake thee.   

146. On Hobson the Carrier.  
If Constellations which in heaven are fixed,  
Give life by influence to bodies mixed,  
And every sign peculiar right doth claim  
Of that to which it propagates a name;  
Then I conjure, Charles the great Northern star  
Whistled up Hobson for to drive his Car.  
He is not dead, but left his mansion here,  
Has left the Bull, and flitted to the Bear.  
Me thinks I see how Charon's fingers itches,  
But he's deceived he cannot have his riches.   

147. Another on Hobson.  
Whom seek ye sirs? Old Hobson? ●ie upon  
Your tardiness, the Carrier is gone,  
Why stare you so? nay, you deserve to fail,  
Alas, here's nought, but his old rotten mail.  
He went a goodwhile since, no question store  
Are glad, who vexed he would not go before:  
And some are grieved he's gone so soon away,  
The Lord knows why he did no longer stay.  
How could he please you all? I'm sure of this,  
He lingered sound, howsoe'er you miss;  
But gone he is, nor was he surely well  
At his departure, as mischance befell:  
For he is gone in such unwonted kind,  
As ne'er before, his goods all left behind.   

148. Old Hobson's Epitaph.  
Here Hobson lies among his many betters,  
A man unlearned, yet a man of Letters;  
His carriage was well known, oft hath he gone  
In Embassy 'twixt father and the son:  
There's few in Cambridge, to his praise be it spoken,  
But may remember him by some good Token.  
From whence he rid to London day by day,  
Till death benighting him, he lost his way:  
His Team was of the best, nor would he have  
Been mired in any way, but in the grave.  
Nor is't a wonder, that he thus is gone,  
Since all men know, he long was drawing on.  
Thus rest in peace thou everlasting Swain,  
And supreme Waggoner, next Charles his wain.   

149. Upon john Crop, who died by taking a vomit.  
Man's life's a game at Tables, and he may  
Mend his bad fortune by his wiser play;  
Death plays against us, each disease and sore  
Are blots, if hit, the danger is the more  
To lose the game; but an old slander by  
Binds up the blots, and cures the malady,  
And so prolongs the game; john Crop was he  
Death in a rage did challenge for to see  
His play, the dice are thrown, when first he drinks,  
Casts, makes a blot, death hits him with a Sinqu●●  
He casts again, but all in vain, for death  
By th'after game did win the prize, his breath.  
What though his skill was good, his luck was bad,  
For never mortal man worse casting had.  
But did not death play false to win from such  
As he? no doubt, he bore a man too much.   

150. An honest Epitaph.  
Here lies an honest man, Reader if thou seek more,  
Thou art not so thyself; for honesty is store  
Of Commendations; and it is more praise,  
To die an honest man, then full of days.   

151. On a Cobbler.  
Here lies an honest Cobbler, whom cursed Fate,  
Perceiving near worn out, would needs translate;  
'Twas a good thrifty soul, and time hath been,  
He would well liquored wade through thick and thin:  
But now he's gone, 'tis all that can be said,  
Honest john Cobbler is here under-laid.   

152. On a proud man.  
Good Reader know, that comest nigh,  
Here lies he low, that looked so high.  
Both poor and naked, that was gay-cloathed:  
Of all forsaked, who others loathed.  
He once thought all envied his worth:  
Nor great, nor small, now grudge his turf:  
The heavenly Cope was his ambition:  
Three Cubits scope is his fruition.  
He was above all; God above him:  
He did not love all; nor God love him:  
He that him taught first to aspire,  
Now hath him caught, and pays his hire.   

153. On an ireful and angry man.  
Here lies a Fury, height Sir Ire,  
That bred, & earned immortal fire.  
He began to wrangle from the womb;  
And was a wrangler to his Tomb.  
A peevish, and a foolish elf,  
Foe to his God, his Saints, his self.  
He hated men, men did not love him:  
No evil but his own might move him.  
He was, and was earth's load and care:  
He is, and is hell's brand, and share.   

154. On john Dawson Butler.  
Dawson the Butler's dead, although I think  
Poets were ne'er insusd with single drink,  
I'll spend a farthing Muse, a watery Verse  
Will serve the turn to cast upon his Hearse.  
If any cannot weep among us here,  
Take off his cup, and so squeeze out a tear.  
Weep O ye barrels, let your drippings fall  
In trickling streams, make waste more prodigal,  
Then when our beer was good, that john may float  
To Styx in beer, and lift up Charrons boat,  
With wholesome waves: and as the Conduits ran  
With Claret, at the Coronation,  
So let your channels flow with single Tiff,  
For john I hope is crowned: take off your whiff,  
Ye men of Rosemary, and drink up all,  
Remembering 'tis a Butler's Funeral:  
Had he been Master of good double beer,  
My life for his, john Dawson had been here.   

155. On Turncoat.  

Passenger, Stay, Read, Walk. Here lieth, ANDREW TURNCOAT, WHO WAS NEITHER SLAVE, NOR SOLDIER, NOR PHYSICIAN, NOR FENCER, NOR COBBLER, NOR FILCHER, NOR LAWYER, NOR USURER, BUT ALL WHO LIVED NEITHER IN CITY, NOR COUNTRY, NOR AT HOME, NOR ABROAD, NOR AT SEA, NOR AT LAND, NOR HERE, NOR ELSEWHERE, BUT EVERY WHERE. WHO DIED, NEITHER OF HUNGER, NOR POISON, NOR HATCHET, NOR HALTER, NOR DOG, NOR DISEASE, BUT OF ALL TOGETHER. 1.1. H. BEING NEITHER HIS DEBTOR, NOR HEIR, NOR KINSMAN, NOR FRIEND, NOR NEIGHBOUR, BUT ALICE, IN HIS MEMORY HAVE ERECTED, THIS NEITHER MONUMENT, NOR TOMB, NOR SEPULCHRE, BUT ALL WISHING NEITHER EVIL, NOR WELL, NEITHER TO THEE, NOR TO ME, NOR HIM, BUT ALL UNTO ALL.    

156. On a Dyer.  
Though death the Dyer colourlesse hath made,  
Yet he dies pale, and will not leave his trade;  
But being dead, the means yet doth not lack,  
To die his friend's cloth into mourning black.  
Some sure foresaw his death, for they of late  
Used to exclaim upon his dying Fate.  
And weak, and faint, he seemed oft time's t'have been,  
For to change colours often he was seen;  
Yet there no matter was so foul, but he  
Would set a colour on it handsomely:  
Death him no unexpected stroke could give,  
That learned to die, since he began to live.  
He shall yet prove, what he before had tried,  
And shall once more live after he hath died.   

157. On a disagreeing Couple.  
Hic jacet ille, qui centies & mille  
Did scold with his Wife:  
Cum illo jacet illa, quae communis in villa  
Did quittance his life:  
His name was Nick, the which was sick,  
And that very male,  
Her name was Nan, who loved well a man,  
So Gentlemen, vale.   

158. On a Footboy that died with overmuch running.  
Base Tyrant death, thus to assail one tired,  
Who scarce his latest breath being left expired;  
And being too too cruel thus to stay  
So swift a course, at length ran quite away.  
But pretty boy, be sure it was not death  
That left behind thy body out of breath:  
Thy soul and body running in a race,  
Thy soul held out, thy body tired apace,  
Thy soul gained, and left that lump of clay  
To rest itself until the latter day.   

159. On a Scrivener.  
Here to a period is the Scrivener come,  
This is the last sheet, his full point this Tomb.  
Of all aspersions● excuse him not,  
'Tis known he lived not, without many a blot;  
Yet he no ill example showed to any,  
But rather gave good Copies unto many.  
●e in good Letters hath always been bred,  
And hath writ more than many men have read.  
He rulers had at his command by Law,  
And though he could not hang, yet he could draw  
He far more bondmen had, and made, than any;  
A dash alone of his pen ruined many;  
That not without good reason, we might call  
His Letters great, or little, Capital.  
Yet is the Scrivener's fate as sure as just,  
When he hath all done than he falls to dust.   

160. On Mr. P. Grace.  
Reader stay,  
And if I had no more to say,  
But here doth lie till the last day,  
All that is left of Philip Grace;  
It might thy patience richly pay:  
For, if such men as he could die,  
What surety of life have thou and I?   

161. On a Chandler.  
How might his day's end that made weeks? or he  
That could make light, here laid in darkness be?  
Yet since his weeks were spent, how could he choose  
But be deprived of light, and his trade lose?  
Yet dead the Chandler is, and sleeps in peace,  
No wonder, long since melted was his grease:  
It seems that he did evil, for daylight  
He hated, and did rather wish the night:  
Yet came his works to light, and were like gold  
Proved in the fire, but could not trial hold;  
His candle had an end, and deaths black night  
Is an extinguisher of all his light.   

162. On a Smith.  
Farewell stout Iron-side, not all thine Art  
Could make a shield against deaths envious Dart.  
Without a fault, no man his life doth pass,  
For to his Vice the Smith addicted was.  
He oft (as Choler is increased by fire)  
Was in a fume, and much inclined to ire.  
He had so long been used to forge, that he  
Was with a black-coal marked for forgery:  
But he for witness needed not to care,  
Who but a Blacksmith was, though ne'er so fair;  
And opportunities he needed not.  
That knew to strike then when their'n was hot;  
As the door-Nailes he made, he's now as dead;  
He them, and death him, hath knocked on the head.   

163. On a man drowned in the Snow.  
Within a fleece of silent waters drowned,  
Before my death was known, a grave I found;  
The which exiled my life from her sweet home,  
For grief strait froze itself into a tomb.  
One element my angry Fate thought meet  
To be my death, grave, tomb, and winding sheet:  
Phoebus himself, an Epitaph had writ,  
But blotting many ere he thought one fit;  
He wrote until my grave, and tomb were gone,  
And 'twas an Epitaph that I had none;  
For every one that passed by that way,  
Without a sculture read that there I lay.  
Here now the second time untombed I lie,  
And thus much have the best of Destiny:  
Corruption, from which only one was free,  
Devoured my grave, but did not feed on me:  
My first grave took me from the race of men,  
My last shall give me back to life again.   

164. On Doctor Hackets wif●.  
Drop mournful eyes your pearly trickling tears,  
Flow streams of sadness down the spangled spheres,  
Fall like the tumbling Cataracts of Nile,  
Make deaf the world with cries; let not a smile  
Appear, let not an eye be seen to sleep  
Nor slumber, only let them serve to weep  
Her dear lamented death, who in her life  
Was a religious, loyal, loving wife,  
Of Children tender, to an husband kind,  
Th'undoubted symptoms of a virtuous mind:  
Which makes her glorious, 'bove the highest pole,  
Where Angels sing sweet Requiums to her soul,  
She lived a none-such, did a none-such dye,  
Ne'er none-such here her Corpse interred lie,   

165. On a beautiful Virgin.  
In this Marble buried lies,  
Beauty, may enrich the Skies,  
And add light to Phoebus' eyes.   

Sweeter than Aurora's air,  
When she paints the Lilies fair,  
And gilds Cowslips with her hair.   

Chafter then the Virgin spring,  
Ere her blossoms she doth bring,  
Or cause Philomela to sing.   

If such goodness live amongst men,  
Bring me it; I know than  
She is come from heaven again.   

But if not, ye standers by  
Cherish me, and say that I  
Am the next designed to die.   

166. An ancient Epitaph on Martin Mar-Prelate.  
The Welshman is hanged,  
Who at our Kirk flanged,  
And at her state banged,  
And breaded are his Bukes:  
And though he be hanged,  
Yet he is not wronged,  
The Devil has him fanged  
In his kruked klukes.   

167. Upon Hodge Pue's Father.  
Oh cruel death that stop● the view  
Of Thoms Parishioner goodman Pew,  
Who lived always in good order,  
Until that death stopped his Recorder,  
Which was betwixt Easter and Pentecost,  
In the year of the great frost:  
At Newmarket then was the King,  
When as the Bells did merrily ring;  
The Minister preached the day before  
Unto his Highness, and no more,  
Returning home, said prayers, and  
Buried the man as I understand.   

168. On our prime English Poet Geoffrey Chaucer, an ancient Epitaph.  
My Master Chaucer, with his fresh Comedies  
Is dead, alas! chief Poet of Britain,  
That whilom made full piteous Tragedies:  
The fault also of Princes did complain,  
As he that was of making Sovereign;  
Whom all this Land should of right prefer,  
Sith of our Language he was the Load-sterre.   

169. On Mr. Ed●: Spencer, the famous Poet.  
At Delphos shrine, one did a doubt propound,  
Which by the Oracle must be released,  
Whether of Poets were the best renowned,  
Those that survive, or they that are deceased?  
The Gods made answer by divine suggestion,  
While Spencer is alive, it is no question.   

170. On john Owen.  
Well had these words been added to thy hearse,  
What e'er thou spak'st (like Ovid) was a verse.   

171. On Michael Drayton buried in Westminster.  
Do pious Marble, let thy Readers know,  
What they, and what their Children owe  
To Draytons' sacred name, whose dust  
We recommend unto thy trust.  
Protect his memory, preserve his story,  
And a lasting Monument of his glory,  
And when thy ruins shall disclaim  
To be the Treasury of his name:  
His name which cannot fade, shall be  
An everlasting Monument to thee.   

172. On Mr. Beaumond.  
He that hath such acuteness, and such wit,  
As well may ask six lives to manage it;  
He that hath writ so well, that no man dare  
Deny it for the best; let him beware:  
Beaumond is dead, by whose sole death appears,  
Wit's a disease consumes men in few years.   

173. On William Shakespeare.  
Renowned Spencer lie a thought more nigh  
To learned Chaucer, and rare Beaumond lie  
A little nearer Spencer, to make room  
For Shakespeare in your threefold, fourfold tomb,  
To lodge all four in one bed make a shift  
Until Doomsday, for hardly will a fifth  
Betwixt this day and that, by Fates be slain,  
For whom your curtains may be drawn again.  
If your precedency in death do bar  
A fourth place in your sacred Sepulchre;  
Under this sacred Marble of thine own,  
Sleep rare Tragedian Shakespeare! sleep ●lone.  
Thy unmolested peace in an unshared cave,  
Possess as Lord, not Tenant of thy grave,  
That knto us, and others it may be,  
Honour hereafter to be laid by thee.   

174. On Ben: johnson.  
Here lies johnson with the rest  
Of the Poets; but the best.  
Reader, wouldst thou more have known?  
Ask his story, not this stone;  
That will speak what this can't tell  
Of his glory. So farewell.   

175. Another on Ben: I.  
The Muse's fairest light, in no dark time;  
The wonder of a learned Age; the line  
That none can pass; the most proportioned wit  
To Nature: the best Judge of what was fit:  
The deepest, plainest, highest, clearest pen:  
The voice most Echoed by consenting men:  
The soul which answered best to all well said  
By others: and which most requital made:  
Tuned to the highest key of ancient Rome,  
Returning all her music with her own.  
In whom with nature, study claimed a part,  
And yet who to himself owed all his Art;  
Here lies Ben: johnson, every age will look  
With sorrow here, with wonder on his Book.   

176. On Mr. Francis Quarles.  
To them that understand themselves so well,  
As what, not who lies here, to ask, I'll tell,  
What I conceive, envy dare not deny,  
Far both from falsehood, and from flattery.  
Here drawn to land by death, doth lie  
A Vessel fitter for the sky,  
Then jasons' Argo, though to Greece,  
They say, it brought the Golden Fleece.  
The skilful Pilot steered it so,  
Hither and thither, to and fro,  
Through all the Seas of Poetry,  
Whether they far or near do lie,  
And fraught it so with all the wealth,  
Of wit and learning, not by stealth,  
Or Piracy, but purchase got,  
That this whole lower world could not  
Richer Commodities, or more  
Afford to add unto his store.  
To heaven then with an intent  
Of new discoveries, he went,  
And left his Vessel here to rest  
Till his return shall make it blest.  
The bill of Lading he that looks  
To know, may find it in his Books.   

177. On Doctor Donnes' death.  
He that would write an Epitaph for thee,  
And do it well, must first begin to be  
Such as thou wert; for none can truly know  
Thy worth, thy life, but he that hath lived so.  
He must have wit to spare, and to hurl down:  
Enough to keep the Gallants of the Town.  
He must have learning plenty; both the Laws,  
Civil, and Common, to judge any Cause;  
Divinity great store, above the rest;  
None of the worst edition, but the best;  
He must have language, travall, all the Arts;  
Judgement to use; or else he wants thy parts.  
He must have friends the highest, able to do;  
Such as Maecenas and Augustus too;  
He must have such a sickness, such a death,  
Or else his vain descriptions come beneath.  
Who then shall write an Epitaph for thee,  
He must be dead first; let alone for me.   

176. On Doctor Whaly.  
What? is the young Apollo grown of late  
Conscious his tender years are nothing fit  
To rule the now large Heliconian S●ate,  
Without a sage Competitor in it?  
And therefore sen● death, who might Whaly bring  
To be a Guardian to this stripling King?  
Sure so it is, but if we thought it might  
Be worse than this: namely, that th'Gods for spite  
To earth, had ta'en him hence; we'd weep amain,  
we'd weep a Phlegeton, an Ocean;  
Which might without the help of Charous Oars,  
Ferry his soul to the Elysian shores.   

179. On Doctor Bambrigg.  
Were but this Marble vocal, there  
Such an Elogium would appear  
As might, though truth did dictate, move  
Distrust in either faith or love;  
As ample knowledge as could rest  
Enshrined in a Mortals breast,  
Which nevertheless did open lie,  
Uncovered by humility.  
A heart which piety had chose,  
To be her Altar, whence arose  
Such smoking Sacrifices, that  
We here can only wonder at;  
A honey tongue that could dispense,  
Torrents of sacred Eloquence;  
That 'tis no wonder if this stone  
Because it cannot speak, doth groan;  
For could Mortality assent,  
These ashes would prove eloquent.   

180. On Sir Walter Raleigh at his Execution.  
Great heart, who taught thee so to die?  
Death yielding thee the victory?  
Where took'st thou leave of life? if there,  
How couldst thou be so freed from fear?  
But sure thou diest, and quit'st the state  
Of flesh and blood before the Fate.  
Else what a miracle were wrought,  
To triumph both in flesh and thought?  
I saw in every slander by,  
Pale death, life only in thine eye:  
Th'example that thou left'st was then,  
We look for when thou diest again.  
Farewell, truth shall thy story say,  
We died, thou only liv'dst that day.   

181. On Sir Horatio Palavozeene.  
Here lies Sir Horatio Palavozeene,  
Who robbed the Pope to pay the Queen,  
And was a thief. A thief? thou liest:  
For why? he robbed but Antichrist.  
Him death with his besom swept from Babram,  
Into the bosom of old Abraham:  
But than came Hercules with his Club,  
And struck him down to Belzebub.   

182. On Sir Francis Drake drowned.  
Where Drake first found, there last he lost his fame:  
And for Tomb left nothing but his name.  
His body's buried under some grea● wave,  
The Sea that was his glory, is his grave:  
Of him no man true Epitaph can make,  
For who can say, Here lies Sir Francis Drake.   

183. Sir Ph. Sidney on himself.  
It is not I that die, I do but leave an Inn,  
Where harboured was with me, all filthy sin;  
It is not I that die, I do but now begin  
Into etenall joy by faith to enter in.  
Why mourn you then my Parents, Friends, and Kin?  
Lament you when I lose, not when I win.   

184. On Sir Wal●er Raleigh.  
If spite be pleased, when as her object's dead,  
Or malice pleased, when it hath bruised the head,  
Or envy pleased, when it hath what it would,  
Then all are pleased, for Raleigh's blood is cold,  
Which were it warm and active, would overcome,  
And strike the two first blind, the other dumb.   

185. On Sir Philip Sidney.  
Reader: within this ground Sir Philip Sidney lies,  
Nor is it sir, that more  
I should acquaint;  
Left superstition rise,  
And men adore  
A Lover, Scholar, Soldier, and a Saint.   

186. On a Learned Nobleman.  
He that can read a sigh, and spell a tear,  
Pronounce amazement, or accent will fear,  
Or get all grief by heart, he, only he,  
Is fit to write, or read thy Elegy.  
Unvalued Lord! that wert so hard a text,  
Read in one age, and understood i'th'next.   

187. On the Tombs in Westminster.  
Mortality, behold, and fear,  
What a change of flesh is here!  
Think how many Royal bones,  
Sleep within these heaps of Stones;  
Here they lie, had Realms, and Lands;  
Who now want strength to stir their hands.  
Where from their Pulpits sealed with dust,  
They preach, in greatness is no trust.  
Here's an acre sown indeed,  
With the richest, royal'st seed,  
That the earth did e'er suck in,  
Since the first man died for sin:  
Here the bones of birth have cried,  
Though Gods they were, as men they died:  
Here are Sands, ignoble things,  
Dropped from the ruin'd sides of Kings,  
Here's a world of Pomp and State  
Buried in dust, once dead by fate.   

188. On Queen Elizabeth.  
Kings, Queens, men's, Virgins eyes  
See where the mirror lies.  
In whom her friends have seen,  
A King's state in a Queen:  
In whom her foes surveyed,  
A Man's heart in a Maid.  
Whom lest Men for her Piety,  
Should grow to think some Deity;  
Heaven hence by death did summon  
Her, to show that she was Woman.   

189. On Queen Anne, who died in March, was kept all April, and buried in May.  
March with his winds hath struck a Cedar tall,  
And weeping April mourns the Cedars fall:  
And May intends her month no flowers shall bring,  
Since she must lose the flower of all the Spring.  
Thy March his winds, have caused April showers,  
And yet sad May must lose his flower of flowers.   

190 On Prince Henry.  
Reader; wonder think it none,  
Though I speak, and am a stone,  
Here is shri●'d Coelestialll dust,  
And I keep it but in trust:  
Should I not my treasure tell,  
Wonder than you might as well,  
How this Stone could choose but break,  
If it had not learned to speak:  
Hence amazed and ask not me  
Whose these sacred ashes be,  
Purposely it is concealed,  
For alas! were that revealed,  
All that read would by and by  
Melt themselves to tears and die.   

191. On King james his death.  
We justly, when a meaner subject dies,  
Begin his Epitaph with, Here he lies,  
But when a King, whose memory remains  
Triumphant over death; with, here he reigns:  
Now he is dead, to whom the world imputes  
Deservedly, eternal Attributes.  
For shall we think his glory can decease,  
That's honoured with the stile, The King of Peace:  
Whose happy union of Great Britanny?  
Calls him the blessed King of Unity.  
And in whose Royal Title it ensu'th,  
Defender of the Faith, and King of Truth,  
These girt thy brows with an immortal Crown,  
(Great james) & turn thy Tomb into a Throne.   

192. On the King of Sweden.  
The world expects Swede's monumental stone  
Should equal the Philosophers; each groan  
Should breathe a golden vein, and every verse  
Sold draw Elixir from his fatal Hearse.  
No fitter subject where strong lines should meet,  
Than such a noble Centre: could the feet  
Of able Verse but trace his Victories,  
Where all's transcendent, who out paralleled  
Pluiarches selected Heroes, and is held  
The tenth of Worthies: who hath overacted  
Great Caesars German-Comment, and contracted  
H● expeditions by preventing awe,  
He often overcame before he saw:  
And (what of his great Son, jove used to say)  
He always either found or made his way.  
Such was his personal and single fight,  
As if that death itself had ra'n her flight  
Into brave Swedens●cabbard ●cabbard, when he drew,  
Death with that steel inevitably flew.  
His Camp a Church, wherein the Gen'ralls' life  
Was the best Sermon, and the only strife  
Amongst his, was to repeat it; bended knee  
Was his prime posture, and his enemy  
Found this most prevalent; his discipline  
Impartial and exact, it did outshine  
Those Antique Martial Grecian, Roman lamps,  
From which most of the world's succeeding Camps  
Have had their borrowed light; this, this was he,  
All this and more; yet even all this can die.  
Death surely ventured on the Swede to try,  
If heaven were subject to mortality;  
And shot his soul to Heaven, as if that she  
Could (if not kill) unthrone a Deity.  
Both Death's deceived, 'tis in another sense▪  
That Heaven is said to suffer violence.  
No ir'n Chain-shot, but 'tis the golden chain  
Of Virtue, and the Graces are the main,  
That do unhinge the everlasting Gates,  
All which like yoked undivided ma●es,  
Were lined in Sweden; where then were ●nchain'd  
Like Orthodoxal, Volumes nothing feigned:  
Though fairly bound, his story is not dipped  
In oil, but in his own true Manuscript.  
It is enough to name him, surely we  
Have got that Romans doting Lethargy:  
And may our names forget, if so we can  
Forget the name of Sweden; renowned man?  
Thou hadst no sooner made the Worthies ten,  
But Heaven did claim the tenth; jealous that men  
Would Idolise thee, but their Instrument.  
Thus thy Meridian proved thy Occident:  
Had longer days been granted by the Fates,  
Rome had heard this Hannibal at her gates.   

Farewell thou Austrian scourge,  
Thou modern wonder,  
Strange rain hath followed  
Thy last clap of thunder,  
A shower of tears:  
And yet for aught we know,  
The Horn that's left,  
May blow down jericho.   

163. To Death.  
Death, art thou mad? or having lost thine eyes,  
Now throw'st thy dart at wild uncertainties?  
Which hits those men, who hadst thou eyes or sense  
Would challenge from thee mild obedience.  
Their prudent looks gilded with Divinity,  
Thy trembling hand would cast thy dart away,  
And grant the wearied Bells a holy day;  
And thou grieved for thy former cruelty,  
Wouldst to the world proclaim a Jubilee.  
But thou art blind and deaf: yet one or two  
At most, me thinks, had been enough  
To satisfy thy bloody Tyranny.  
But thou wouldst fain rob poor mortality  
Of all true worth, that men might be as base  
As thou art, and the Devils of thy race.  
Art thou Coward grown? why didst not dart  
Thy spite at lusty youth? whose valiant heart  
Would scorn thy fond Alarms, and would sl●ght  
Thy mighty malice, and thy puny might.  
This had been fair enough; but thou goest further:  
That had been but manslaughter, this is murder;  
To kill those rich-souled men, who sweetly do  
Whisper unto their willing souls to go.  
But knowledge of thy weakness makes thee wise,  
Thou seekest not triumphs now, but sacrifice.  
Thy malice fools thee too, thou hop'st they'd griev  
Because they should be forced behind to leave  
Their honoured worth; but (fond fool) they be  
Now crowned and clothed with immortality.  
Nor shal● thou kill their fames; here we will raise  
A Monument to them, shall outlast days;  
Nor shall decay, until the Trumpets call  
The world to see thy long-wished Funeral:  
Till then sleep blest souls, freed from hopes and fears.  
Whilst we do write your Epitaphs in tears.    

FANCIES AND Fantastics.  

 maze 

Time that all things doth inheritt  
Renders each desert his merit,  
Youth with youth is best combined,  
Each one with his like is twined,  
Beauty should have beauteous meaning,  
Ever that hope easeth plaining,  
Do so and to love be turning  
El's each ♡ it will be burning  
Learn to love & leave denying,  
Endless knots let fates be tying,  
Such a face so fine a feature,  
Kindest, fairest, sweetest creature,  
Never yet was found but loving,  
O then let my plaints be moving,  
I love not with vows contesting,  
Faith is faith without protesting,     

Aenigma.  
AS often as I please it changeth form,  
It is no Coward, though it do no harm;  
'Tis never hurt, nor ever doth it seed;  
'Tis nothing worth, yet nothing doth it need.  
Swiftly it runs, yet never maketh sound,  
And once being lost, again 'tis never found.  
'Tis a fit Servant for a Gentleman,  
And a true pattern for a Servingman.  
'Tis born a Giant, lives a Dwarf, and nigh  
Unto its death, a Giant doth it die.   

Another on the six Cases.  
No. Nanta was nominated for a W.  
Gen. For she that had been Genitive before:  
Da. Notice hereof was to the justice given,  
Acc. Who her accu'sd, that she had loosely liven.  
Voc. But she cried mercy, and her fault up ripped,  
Abl. And so was ta'en away and sound whipped.  
Her Case was ill; yet will the question be,  
Being thus declined, in what a Case was she   


If V 2 ay, as I 2 V am true,  
V ᴵ must lie, and  I in V  
I in V Thoughts— c  
Searching c  
Valued may B  
Love— may B   

Truth never ties  
Too A fool yy   

If have part   

And V bb   

Y'ave 1.2. many then I. C.  
And R not worth  
Write QQ  
I'll— not yours W    

A Riddle.  
A beggar once exceeding poor,  
A penny prayed me give him,  
And deeply vowed ne'er to ask more  
And I ne'er more to give him,  
Next day he begged again, I gave,  
Yet both of us our Oaths did save.   

Another.  
There was a man bespoke a thing,  
Which when the owner home did bring,  
He that made it, did refuse it,  
He that bought it, would not use it;  
He that hath it doth not know  
Whether he hath it, yea or no.   

Another.  
One evening, as cold, as cold might be,  
With Frost and Snow, and pinching weather,  
Companions about three times three,  
Lay close all in a bed together;  
Yet one after other they took heat,  
And died that night all in a sweat.   

 maze 
THIS is love and worth commending,  
Still beginning never ending,  
Like a wily net ensnaring  
In a round shuts up all squaring.  
In and out, whose every angle  
More and more doth still entangle.  
Keeps a measure still in moving,  
And is never light but loving  
twining arms exchanging kisses,  
Each partaking others blisses.  
Laughing weeping still together  
Bliss in one is mirth in either.  
Never breaking ever bending,  
This is love & worth commending.    

A doubtful meaning.  
The Feminine kind is counted ill:  
And is I swear: The contrary;  
No man can find: That hurt they will;  
But every where: Do show pity;  
To no kind heart: They will be cursed;  
To all true friends: They will be trusty;  
In no part: They work the worst;  
With tongue and mind: But honesty;  
They do detest: Inconstancy;  
They do embrace: Honest intent;  
They like least: Lewd fantasy;  
In every case: Are penitent;  
At no season: Doing amiss;  
To it truly: Contrary;  
To all reason: Subject and meek;  
To no body: Malicious;  
To friend or foe: Or gentle sort;  
They be never: Doing amiss;  
In weal and woe: Of like report;  
They be ever: Be sure of this;  
The Feminine kind: Shall have my heart;  
Nothing at all: False they will be;  
In word and mind: To suffer smart;  
And ever shall: Believe you me.   

2 A go  
That doth  
That's ruled by 1. whose says no:  
I'll try ere trust ward left my  
Find slight regard.  
The a whilst  
I 2 Lovers  
That gazed me.  
There was nor  
nor loathsome  
That might disturb or break delight,  
Nor nor  
in that same road,  
And yet to me they seemed affright.  
Then favour them I told,  
True love cannot be bold.   

These may be read two or three ways.  
Your face Your tongue your wit so fair so smooth so sharp first drew then moved then knit mine eye mine ear my heart Mine eye Mine ear My heart thus drawn thus moved thus knit ●ffects hangs on yields to Your face Your tongue your wit   

These may be read backward or forward.  
Joy, Mirth, Triumphs, I do defy,  
Destroy me Death; fain would I die:  
Forlorn am I, love is exiled,  
Scorn smiles thereat; hope is beguiled:  
Men banished bliss, in woe must dwell,  
Then Joy, Mirth, Triumphs all farewell.   

 maze 
TRUE love is a precious pleasure,  
Rich delight valued treasure,  
Two firm Hearts in one ♡ meeting,  
Grasping hand in hand ne'er fleeting,  
Wreathlike like a maze entwineing  
Two fair minds in one combineing;  
Foe to faithless vows perfidious  
True love is a knot religious,  
Dead to the sins that flaming rise  
Through beauty's soul seduceing eyes,  
Deaf to gold enchanting witches,  
Love for virtue not for riches;  
Such is true loves boundless measure.  
True love is a precious pleasure.    

Est aliis servire tenetur  
jure qui  
sum servire necesse est  
jure tibi me  
Te nulli cunctos  
aut are videris  
Qui cunctos hos laude  
aut fero cunctis.  
Thus Englished.  
- lings is bound to serve his Mrs. hands  
An-  
you & bound to do your high commands  
I'm  
None's you  
you all are then  
I'll praise you  
other men.   

A New years Gift.  
That our loves may never alter,  
Tie it fast with this strong Halter.   

The Answer.  
The Rope is old, the Jest is new,  
I'll take the Jest, the Rope take you.   

A Gentleman to his Love.  
Tell her I love; and if she ask how well;  
Tell her my tongue told thee no tongue can tell.   

Her Answer.  
Say not you love, unless you do,  
For lying will not honour you.   

His Reply.  
Madam, I love, and love to do,  
And will not lie, unless with you.   

To his Mistress.  
A constant heart within a woman's breast,  
Is Ophir gold within an Ivory Chest   

Her answer.  
Of such a Treasure than thou art possessed,  
For thou hast such a heart in such a Guest.   

On Chloris walking in the Snow.  
I saw fair Chloris walk alone,  
When feathered rain came softly down,  
Then jove descended from his Tower,  
To court her in a silver shower:  
The wanton Snow flew to her breast,  
Like little birds into their nest;  
But overcome with whiteness there  
For grief it thawed into a tear;  
Then falling down her garment hem,  
To deck her, froze into a gem.   

Upon Clarinda, begging a lock of her Lover's hair.  
Fairest Clarinda, she whom truth calls fair,  
Begged my heart of me, and a lock of hair;  
Should I give both, said I, how should I live?  
The lock I would, the heart I would not give:  
For that, left thieving love should steal away,  
Discretion had locked up, and kept the key;  
As for the lock of hair which lovers use,  
My head laid on her knee, I prayed her choose,  
Taking her Sizars by a cunning art,  
First picked the lock, and then she stole my heart.   

 maze 
A ✚ begins love criss cross row.  
Love's not without a cross or two.  
A double ✚ begins this knot  
Love without crosses merits not,  
This knot & love are both alike.  
Seeing first & last are both to seek  
Reaching, spreading, round about,  
All ways turning in & out  
Still increasing still renewing  
Crossing meeting still continuing  
Winding this way that way bending  
Without beginning without ending  
True love's stirring still in action  
Always tending to perfection  
No cross can stop true love's intent  
But it goes on to what it meant  
And though it meet with many a one,  
True love makes a ✚ seem non  
To those that never love but one  
Love of manys true loves bane  
And such shall be crossed & crossed again  
who lives to love must learn to know  
A ✚ begins loves criss crossrow.    

A Loving Bargain.  
Give me a kiss, I'll make that odd one even,  
Then treble that which you have given;  
Be sure I'll answer you, and if I miss,  
Then take a thousand forfeits for a kiss,  
And a thousand be too few, than take more:  
Kiss me with your kisses, make me poor:  
When I am beggared some hope will remain,  
You will for pity give me some again.   

A Question.  
Between two Suitors sat a Lady fair,  
Upon her head a Garland she did wear:  
And of the enamoured two, the first alone,  
A Garland wore like hers, the second none;  
From her own head she took the wreath she wore,  
And on him placed it that had none before.  
And then mark this, their brows were both about  
Beset with Garlands, and she sat without:  
Beholding now these Rivals on each side  
Of her thus placed and decked with equal pride:  
She from the first man's head the wreath he had  
Took off, and therewith her own brow she clad.  
And then (not this) she and the second were  
With Garlands decked; and the first man sat bare.  
Now which did she love best? of him to whom  
She gave the wreath? or him she took it from?   

The Answer.  
In my conceit, she would him soon have,  
From whom she took, not him to whom she gave.  
For to bestow, many respects may move:  
But to receive, none can persuade but love.  
She graced him much on whom the wreath she placed;  
But him whose wreath she wore, she much more graced.  
For where she gives, she there a servant makes,  
But makes herself a servant where she takes.  
Then where she takes, she honours most: & where  
She doth most honour, she most love doth bear.   

An incomparable kiss.  
Give me a Kiss from those sweet lips of thine,  
And make it double by enjoining mine,  
Another yet, nay yet another,  
And let the first Kiss be the seconds brother.  
Give me a thousand kisses, and yet more;  
And then repeat those that have gone before;  
Let us begin while daylight springs in heaven  
And kiss till night descends into the Even,  
And when that modest Secretary, Night,  
Discolours all but thy heav'n-beaming bright,  
We will begin Revels of hidden love,  
In that sweet Orb where silent pleasures move.  
In high, new strains, unspeakable delight,  
We'll vent the dull hours of the silent night.  
Were the brigh● day no more to visit us,  
O then for ever would I hold thee thus;  
Naked, enchained, empty of idle fear,  
As the first Lovers in the Garden were.  
I'll die betwixt thy breasts that are so whi●●,  
For, to die there, would do a man delight.  
Embrace me still, for time runs on before,  
And being dead we shall embrace no more.  
Let us kiss faster than the hours do fly,  
Long live each kiss, and never know to die.  
Yet if that fade, and fly away too fast,  
Impress another, and renew the last;  
Let us vie kisses, till our eyelids cover,  
And if I sleep, count me an idle Lover,  
Admit I sleep, I'll still pursue the Theme,  
And eagerly I'll kiss thee in a dream.  
O give me way; grant love to me thy friend,  
Did hundred thousand suitors all contend  
For thy Virginity, there's none shall woe  
With heart so firm as mine; none better do  
Then I with your sweet sweetness; if you doubt,  
Pier●● with your eyes my heart, or pluck it out.   

To his Mistress.  
Dearest, thy twined hairs are not threads of gold,  
Nor thine eyes Diamonds; nor do I hold  
Thy lips for Rubies, nor thy cheeks to be  
Fresh Roses; nor thy Dugs of Ivory;  
The skin that doth thy dainty body sheath,  
Not alabaster is; nor dost thou breath  
Arabian odours; these the earth brings forth,  
Compared with thine, they would impair thy worth;  
Such than are other mistresses; but mine▪  
Hath nothing earth, but all divine.   

The Answer.  
If earth doth never change, nor move,  
There's nought of earth sure in thy love;  
Sith heavenly bodies with each one,  
Concur in generation;  
And wanting gravity are light,  
Or in a borrowed lustre bright;  
If meteors and each falling star,  
Of heavenly matter framed are,  
Earth hath thy Mistress, but sure thine  
All heavenly is, though not divine.   

To his Mistress.  
I love, because it comes to me by kind;  
And much, because it much delights my mind:  
And thee, because thou art within my heart:  
And thee alone, because of thy desert.  
I love, and much, and thee, and thee alone,  
By kind, mind, heart, and every one.   

Her answer.  
Thou lov'st not, because thou art unkind,  
Nor much, cause it delighteth not thy mind:  
Nor me, because I am not in thy heart:  
Nor me alone, because I want desert:  
Thou lov'st nor much, nor me, nor me alone,  
By kind, mind, heart, desert, nor any one.   

Clownish Courtship.  
Excellent Mistress, brighter than the Moon,  
Then scoured Pewter, or the Silver-spoon,  
Fairer than Phoebus, or the morning star;  
Dainty fair Mistress, by my troth you are  
As far excelling Diana and her Nymphs,  
As lobsters crawfish, and as crawfish shrimps:  
Thine eyes like Diamonds, do shine most clearly,  
As I'm an honest Man, I love thee dearly.   

A Comparison.  
Like to the selfe-inhabiting snail,  
Or like a Squirrel penthoused under his tail,  
Even such is my Mistress face in a veil:  
Or like to a Carp that's lost in mudding,  
Nay, more like to a black-pudding:  
For as the pudding, the skin lies within,  
So doth my Mistress beauty in a taffety gin.   

A Question.  
Tell me (Sweetheart) how spell'st thou jone,  
Tell me but that, 'tis all I crave;  
I shall not need to be alone,  
If such a lovely mate I have;  
That thou art one, who can deny?  
And all will grant that I am I,  
If I be I, and thou art one,  
Tell me (Sweetheart) how spell'st thou jone.   

The Answer.  
I tell you Sir, and tell you true,  
That I am I, and I am one,  
So can I spell jone without you,  
And spelling so, can lie alone:  
My eye to one is consonant,  
But as for yours it is not so;  
If that your eye agreement want,  
I to your eye must answer no;  
Therefore leave off your loving plea,  
And let your I be I per se.   

Love's prime.  
Dear Love, do not your fair beauty wrong  
With thinking still you are too young,  
The Rose and Lily in your cheek  
Do flourish, and no ripening seek:  
Those flaming beams shot from your eye,  
Do show Loves Midsumer is nigh.  
Your cherry-lip, red, soft and sweet,  
Proclaim such fruit for taste is meet:  
Then lose no time, for love hath wings,  
And flies away from aged things.   

Another to his Mistress.  
When first I saw thee, thou didst sweetly play  
The gentle thief, and stolest my heart away;  
Render me mine again, or leave thy own,  
Two are too much for thee, since I have none:  
But if thou wilt not, I will swear thou art  
A sweet-faced creature with a double heart.   

Another.  
Sweetest fair be not too cruel,  
Blot not beauty with disdain,  
Let not those bright eyes add fuel  
To a burning heart in vain;  
Lest men justly when I die,  
Deem you the Candle, me the Fly.   

Another.  
I cannot pray you in a studied stile,  
Nor speak words distant from my heart a mile;  
I cannot visit Hyde-park every day,  
And with a Hackney court my time away;  
I cannot spaniolize it week by week,  
Or wait a month to kiss your hand or cheek;  
If when you're loved, you cannot love again,  
Why, do but say so, I am out of pain.   

Excuse for absence.  
You'll ask perhaps wherefore I stay,  
(Loving so much,) so long away?  
I do not think 'twas I did part,  
It was my body, not my heart:  
For like a Compass in your love,  
One foot was fixed, and cannot move;  
Th'other may follow the blind guide  
Of giddy fortune, but cannot slide  
Beyond your service; nor will venture  
To wander far from you the Centre.   

To a fair, but unkind Mistress.  
I prithee turn that face away,  
Whose splendour bu● benight● my day;  
Sad eyes like mine, and wounded hearts,  
eat the bright rays that beauty darts;  
Unwelcome is the Sun tha● prie●  
Into those shades where sorrow lies.  
Go shine on happy things, to me  
The blessing is a misery;  
For your bright Sun, not warms, but burns;  
Like that the Indian sooty turns.  
I'll serve the night, and there confined,  
Wish thee less fair; or else more kind.   

To himself.  
Retreat sad heart, breed not thy further pain;  
Admire, but fonder thoughts seek to refrain.   

To some Ladies.  

Ladies, you that seem so nice,  
And in show as cold as ice,  
And perhaps have held out thrice,  
Do not think, but in a trice,  
One or other may entice;  
And at last by some device,  
Set your honour at a price.   

You whose smooth and dainty skin,  
Rosy lips, or cheeks, or chin,  
All that gaze upon you win,  
Yet insult not, sparks within  
Slowly burn e'er flames begin,  
And presumption still hath been  
Held a most notorious sin.    

A Heart lost.  
Good folk, for love or hire,  
But help me to a Crier,  
For my poor heart is gone astray  
After two eyes that went that way.  
O yes! if there be any man  
In Town or Country, can  
Bring me my heart again,  
I'll pay him for his pain.  
And by these marks I will you show,  
That only I this heart do owe:  
It is a wounded heart,  
Wherein yet flick the dart,  
Every part sore hurt throughout:  
Faith and troth writ round about.  
It is a tame heart and a dear,  
That never used to roam,  
But having got a haunt, I fear  
Will never stay at home,  
For love-sake walking by this way,  
If you this heart do see;  
Either impound it for a stray,  
Or send it home to me.   

The sad Lover.  

Why should I wrong my judgement so,  
As for to love where I do know  
There is no hold for to be taken?   

For what her wish thirsts after most,  
If once of it her heart can boast,  
Strait by her folly 'tis forsaken.   

Thus whilst I still pursue in vain,  
Me thinks I turn a child again,  
And of my shadow am a chase.   

For all her favours are to me  
Like apparitions which I see,  
But never can come near th'●bracing.   

Oft had I wished that there had been  
Some Almanac whereby to have seen  
When love with her had been in season.   

But I perceive there is no art  
Can find the Epact of the heart,  
That loves by chance, and not by reason.   

Yet will I not for this despair,  
For time her humour may prepare  
To grace him who is now neglected.   

And what unto my constancy  
She now denies: one day may be  
From her instancy expected.    

A Watch sent to a Gentlewoman.  
Go and count her happy hours,  
They more happy are than ours:  
That day that gets her any bliss,  
Make it twice as long as 'tis:  
The hour she smiles in, let it be  
By thine art increased to thee:  
But if she frown on thee or me,  
Know night is made, by her, not thee:  
Be swift in such an hour, and soon  
Make it night, though it be noon:  
Obey her time, who is the free,  
Fair Sun that governs thee and me.   

On a Fairing.  
Let them whose hear● distrusts a Mistress faith,  
Bribe it with gifts: mine no suspicion hath:  
It were a sin of as much stain in me,  
To think you false, as so myself to be.  
If to reward that thou hast expressed,  
Thou dost expect a present: 'tis confessed  
'Twere justice from another, but I am  
So poor; I have not left myself a name  
In substance; not made thine by gift before:  
He that bestows his heart, can give no more  
If thou wouldst have a fairing from me, then  
Give me myself back, I'll give it thee again.   

Posies for Rings.  

We are agreed  
In time to speed.   

I trust in time  
Thou wilt be mine.   

In thy breast  
My heart doth rest.   

This and the giver  
Are thine for ever.   

'tis love alone  
Makes two but one.   

Love's knot once tied  
Who can divide?   

Where hearts agree  
No strife can be.   

God above  
Increase our love.   

Though time do slide,  
Yet in true love abide.   

Nought so sweet,  
As when we greet.   

Thy affection,  
My perfection.    

With a to Julia.  

julia, I bring  
To thee this Ring,  
Made for thy finger fit;  
To show by this,  
That our love is  
Or should be, like to it.   

Close though it be,  
Thy joint is free:  
So when loves yoke is on  
It must not gall,  
Or fret at all  
With hard oppression.   

But it must play  
Still either way;  
And be, too, such a yoke,  
As not too wide,  
To over-slide;  
Or be so straight to choke.   

So we, who bear,  
This beam, must rear  
Ourselves to such a height:  
As that the stay  
Of either may  
Create the burden light.   

And as this round  
Is no where found  
To flaw or else to sever:  
So let our love  
As endless prove;  
And pure as Gold for ever.    

True beauty.  

May I find a woman fair,  
And her mind as clear as air;  
If her beauty gone alone,  
'Tis to me, as if 'twere none.   

May I find a woman rich,  
And not of too high a pitch:  
If that pride should cause disdain,  
Tell me, Lover, where's thy gain?   

May I find a woman wise,  
And her falsehood not disguise;  
Hath she wit, as she hath will?  
Double armed she is to ill.   

May I find a woman kind,  
And not wavering like the wind▪  
How should I call that love mine,  
When 'tis his, and his, and thine?   

May I find a woman true,  
There is beauty's fairest hue;  
There is beauty, love and wit,  
Happy he can compass it.    

Choice of a Mistress.  

Not that I wish my Mistress  
More or less than what she is,  
Write I these lines, for 'tis too late  
Rules to prescribe unto my fate.   

But yet a● tender stomach● call  
For some choice mea●, that bears not all▪  
A queasy lover may impart,  
What Mistress 'tis that please his heart.   

First I would have her richly spread,  
With nature's blossoms white and red;  
For flaming hearts will quickly die,  
That have not fuel from the eye.   

〈◊〉 this alone will never win,  
Except some treasure lies within;  
For where the spoiles not worth the stay,  
Men raise their siege and go away.   

I'd have her wise enough to know  
When, and to whom a grace to show:  
For she that doth at random choose,  
She will, as soon her choice refuse.   

And yet methinks I'd have her mind  
To flowing courtesy inclined:  
And tender hearted as a maid,  
Yet pity only when I prayed.   

And I would wish her true to be,  
(Mistake me not) I mean to me;  
She that loves me, and loves one more,  
Will love the Kingdom o'er and o'er.   

And I could wish her full of wit,  
Knew she how to huswife it:  
But she whose wisdom makes her dare  
To try her wit, will sell more ware.   

Some other things, delight will bring,  
As if she dances, play, and sing.  
So they be safe, what though her parts  
Catch ten thousand foreign hearts.   

But let me see, should she be proud;  
A little pride should be allowed.  
Each amorous boy will sport and prate  
Too freely, where he finds not state.   

I care not much though she let down  
Sometime a chiding, or a frown.  
But if she wholly quench desire,  
'Tis hard to kindle a new fire.   

To smile, to toy, is not amiss,  
Sometimes to interpose a kiss;  
But not to cloy; sweet things are good,  
Pleasant for sauce, but not for food.    

Wishes to his supposed Mistress.  

Who e'er she be,  
That is the only she,  
That shall command my heart and me.   

Might you hear my wishes  
Bespeak her to my blisses,  
And be called my absent kisses.   

I wish her beauty,  
That owes not all his duty  
To gaudy tire, or some such folly.   

A face that's best  
By its own beauty dressed;  
And can alone command the rest.   

Smiles, that can warm  
The blood, yet teach a charm  
That chastity shall take no harm.   

Joys that confess  
Virtue her Mistress,  
And have no other head to dress.   

Days, that in spite  
Of darkness, by the light  
Of a clear mind, are day all Night.   

Life that dares send  
A challenge to his end,  
And when it's come, say, Welcome friend.   

Soft silken Hours,  
Open Suns; shady Bowers,  
'Bove all; Nothing within that lours.   

I wish her store  
Of wealth may leave her poor  
Of wishes; and I wish no more.   

Now if time knows,  
That her whose radiant brows,  
Wove them a Garlant of my vows.   

Her that dare be,  
What these lines wish to see,  
I seek no further, it is she.   

Such worth as this is,  
Shall fix my flying wishes  
And determine them to kisses.   

Let her full glory,  
(My fancies) fly before ye,  
Be ye my fiction, but her my story.    

To a Lady.  
Madam,  
Should I not smother this ambitious fire,  
Which actuates my verse: it would aspire  
To blear your virtues, in a glimmering line;  
And your perfections in its measures twine.  
But I have checked my fancy Muse, nor dare●  
Dull Poetry attempt to scan the spheres;  
Or in a cloudy rhyme invaile the light,  
Or court the trembling Watchmen of the night;  
Some vulgar virtue, or a single blaze,  
Might stand in Verse; and would endure a gaze:  
But when both Art, and Nature, shall agree  
To sum them all in one Epitome:  
When the perfections of both sexes, are  
Locked in one female store-house; who shall dare  
In an audacious rapture, to untwine  
Into loose numbers, what Heaven doth enshrine,  
In one rich breast? Dazzled invention say,  
Canst thou embowel either India,  
In one poor rhyme? Or can thy torchlight fire,  
Show us the Sun; or any Star that's higher?  
If thou wilt needs spend thy officious flame,  
Do it in admiration: but disclaim  
Thy power to praise: thy senders wishes, bear,  
And be the Herald of the newborn year:  
Wish that each rising Sun, may see her more  
Happy, then when he rose the morn before;  
And may, when e'er he gilds the envious West,  
Leave her more blessed, then when he graced the feast;  
Wish higher yet, that her felicity  
May equalise her virtues: Poetry  
Thou art too low; canst thou not swell a strain  
May reach my thoughts: good Madam since 'tis vain,  
(And yet my verse to kiss your hand presumed)  
Let it to be your sacrifice be doomed:  
And what it wants in true Poetic fire,  
Let the flame add, till so my Muse expire.   

An Echo.  

Come Echo I thee summon,  
Tell me truly what is Woman?  
If worn, she is a feather,  
If wooed she's frosty weather;  
If worn, the wind not slighter:  
If weighed, the Moons not lighter:  
If lain withal, she's apish:  
If not lain with, she's snappish.   

Come Echo I thee summon,  
Tell me once more what is woman?  
If fair, she's coy in courting,  
If witty, loose in sporting,  
If ready, she's but clothing,  
If naked, she's just nothing,  
If not beloved, she horns thee;  
If loved too well, she scorns thee.  
The Echo still replied,  
But still me thought she lied.   

Then for my Mistress sake,  
I again reply did make.  
If worn, she is a Jewel,  
If wooed, she is not cruel,  
If won, no Rock is surer,  
If weighed, no gold is purer,  
If lain withal, delicious;  
If not, yet no way vicious.  
False Echo go, you lie,  
See your errors I descry.   

And for the second summon I  
This for woman do reply.  
If fair, she's heavenly treasure,  
If witty, she's all pleasure,  
If ready, she is quaintest,  
If not ready, she's daintiest,  
If loved, her heart she spares not,  
If not beloved, she cares not.  
False Echo, go you lie,  
See, your errors I descry.   Icar. 
Oh you do my hearing wrong,  
I have turned my eyes thus long  
To be captived by your tongue.  Phil. 
Then my hours are happy spent,  
If my tongue give such content,  
It shall be thy Instrument.  Icar. 
But be sure you use it then,  
Thus unto no other men,  
Lest that I grow deaf again.   

Fidelius and his silent Mrs. Flora.  Fid. 
My dearest Flora can you love me?  Flo. 
Prithee prove me.  Fid. 
Shall I have your hand to kiss?  Flo. 
Yes, yes.  Fid. 
On this whiteness let me swear,  Flo. 
No, pray forbear.  Fid. 
I love you dearer than mine eyes.  Flo. 
Be wise.  Fid. 
I prise no happiness like you.  Flo. 
Will you be true?  Fid. 
As i● the Turtle to her Mate.  Flo. 
I hate.  Fid. 
Who my divinest Flora, me?  Flo. 
No flattery.  Fid. 
He that flatters, may he die.  Flo. 
Perpetually.  Fid. 
And his black urn be the cell,  Flo. 
Where Furies dwell.  Fid. 
May his name be blasphemous,  Flo. 
To us.  Fid. 
His memory for ever rot;  Flo. 
And be forgot.  Fid. 
Lest it keep our age and youth,  Flo. 
From love and truth.  Fid. 
Thus upon your Virgin hand,  Flo. 
Your vows shall stand.  Fid. 
This kiss confirms my act and deed.  Flo. 
You may exceed.  Fid. 
Your hand, your lip, I'll vow on both;  Flo. 
A dangerous Oath.  Fid. 
My resolution ne'er shall start;  Flo. 
You have my heart.   

Fears and Resolves of two Lovers.  A. 
What wouldst thou wish? tell me dear lover,  I. 
How I might but thy thoughts discover.  A. 
If my firm love I were denying,  
Tell me, with sighs wouldst thou be dying?  I. 
Those words in jest to hear thee speaking,  
For very grief, this heart is breaking.  A. 
Yet wouldst thou change? I prithee tell me,  
In seeing one that doth excel me?  I. 
O no, for how can I aspire,  
To more than to my own desire?  
This my mishap doth chiefly grieve me;  
Though I do swear'●, you'll not believe me.  A. 
Imagine that thou dost not love me;  
But some beauty that's above me.  I. 
To such a thing Sweet do not will me;  
The naming of the same will kill me.  A. 
Forgive me fair one, Love hath fears:  I. 
I do forgive, witness these tears.   

A Sonnet.  
Who can define, this all things, nothing love,  
Which hath so much of every thing in it?  
Which watery, with the Planets oft doth move,  
And with the Zone it hath a fiery fit;  
Oft seizes men, like massy stupid earth,  
And with the Air, it filleth every place;  
Which had no Midwife, nor I think no birth,  
No shrine, no arrows, but a woman's face.  
A God he is not, for he is unjust;  
A Boy he is not, for he hath more power;  
A Faction 'tis not, all will yield I trust;  
What is it then, that is so sweetly sour?  
No law so wise, that can his absence prove?  
But (ah) I know there is a thing called Love.   

A Love-sick-sonnet.  

Love is a Sickness full of woes,  
All remedies refusing:  
A plant that with most cutting grows,  
Most barren with best using.  
Why so?  
More we enjoy it, more it dies,  
If not enjoyed, it sighing cries  
hay ho!   

Love is a torment of the mind,  
A tempest everlasting;  
And jove hath made it of a kind,  
Not well, nor full nor fasting.  
Why so?  
More we enjoy it, more it dies,  
If not enjoyed, it sighing cries  
hay ho!    

A Question.  
Fain would I learn of men the reason why  
They swear they die for love, yet lowly lie?  
Or why they fond dote on, and admire  
A painted face, or a fantastic tire.  
For while such Idols they fall down before,  
They prove more fools than those they thus adore.   

Answer.  
The reason why men loving lowly lie;  
Is hope to gain their purposes thereby.  
And that they fond dote on paint and tires;  
'Tis just in love, to show men's fond desires.  
And for the rest, this have I heard from Schools  
That love, makes foolish wise, & wise men fools.   

Sighs.  
All night I muse, all day I cry,  
ay me.  
Yet still I wish, though still deny.  
ay me.  
I sigh, I mourn, and say that still,  
I only live my joys to kill.  
ay me.  
I feed the pain that on me feeds,  
ay me.  
My wound I stop not, though it bleeds;  
ay me.  
Heart be content, it must be so,  
For springs were made to overflow.  
ay me.  
Then sigh and weep, and mourn thy fill,  
ay me.  
Seek no redress, but languish still.  
ay me.  
Their griefs more willing they endure,  
That know when they are past recure.  
ay me.   

To Celia weeping.  

Fairest, when thine eyes did pour  
A crystal shower;  
I was persuaded, that some stone  
Had liquid grown;  
And thus amazed; sure thought I  
When stones are moist, some rain is nigh.   

Why weep'st thou? cause thou cannot be  
More hard to me?  
So Lionesses pity, so  
Do Tigers too:  
So doth that Bird, which when she's fed  
On all the man, pines o'er the Head.   

Yet I'll make better omens till  
Event beguile;  
Those pearly drops, in time shall be  
A precious Sea;  
And thou shalt like thy Coral prove,  
Soft under water, hard above.    

An Hymn to Love.  

I will confess  
With chieerfulness,  
Love is a thing so likes me,  
That let her lay  
On me all day,  
I'll kiss the hand that strikes me.   

I will not, I,  
Now blubb'ring cry,  
It (ah!) too late reputes me,  
That I did fall  
To love at all,  
Since love so much contents me.   

No, no, I'll be  
In fetters free;  
While others they sit wring  
Their hands for pain;  
I'll entertain  
The wounds of love with singing.   

With flowers and wine  
And Cakes divine,  
To strike me I will tempt thee:  
Which done; no more  
I'll come before  
Thee and thine Altars empty.    

Love's Discoveries.  

With much of pain, and all the Art I knew,  
Have I endeavoured hitherto  
To hide my love; and yet all will not do.   

The world perceives it, and it may be, she;  
Though so discreet and good she be,  
By hiding it, to teach that skill to me.   

Men without love have oft so cunning grown,  
That something like it they have shown,  
But none that had it ever seemed t'have none.   

Love's of a strangely open, simple kind,  
Can no arts or disguises find,  
But thinks none sees it cause itself is blind.   

The very eye betrays our inward smart;  
Love of himself left there a part,  
When through it he passed into the heart.   

Or if by chance the face betray not it,  
But keep the secret wisely, yet,  
Like drunkenness into the tongue 'twill get.    

Heart-breaking.  

It gave a piteous groan, and so it broke;  
In vain it something would have spoke:  
The love within too strong fort was  
Like poison put into a Venice Glass.   

I thought that this some Remedy might prove,  
But, oh, the mighty Serpent Love,  
Cut by this chance in pieces small,  
In all still lived, and still it slung in all.   

And now (alas) each little broken part  
Feels the whole pain of all my heart:  
And every smallest corner still  
Lives with that torment which the whole did kill.   

Even so rude Armies when the field they quit,  
And into several Quarters get;  
Each Troop does spoil and ruin more  
Then all joined in one body did before.   

How many love's reign in my bosom now?  
How many loves, yet all of you?  
Thus have I changed with evil fate  
My Monarch Love into a Tyrant State.    

A Tear sent his Mistress.  

Glide gentle streams, and bear  
Along with you my tear  
To that coy Girl;  
Who smiles, yet slays  
Me with delays;  
And strings my tears as Pearl.   

See! see she's yonder set,  
Making a Carcanet  
Of maiden-flowers!  
There, there present  
This Orient,  
And pendant Pearl of ours.   

Then say, I've sent one more  
Gem, to enrich her store;  
And that is all  
Which I can send,  
Or vainly spend,  
For tears no more will fall.   

Nor will I seek supply  
Of them, the springs once dry;  
But I'll devise,  
(Among the rest)  
A way that's best  
How I may save mine eyes.   

Yet say, should she condemn  
Me to surrender them;  
Then say; my part  
Must be to weep  
Out them; to keep  
A poor, yet loving heart.   

Say too, she would have this;  
She shall: Then my hope is,  
That when I'm poor,  
And nothing have  
To send, or save;  
I'm sure she'll ask no more.    

A Song.  

To thy lover  
Deer, discover  
That sweet blush of thine tha● shameth  
(When those Roses  
It discloses)  
All the flowers that Nature nameth   

In free Air,  
Flow thy Hair;  
That no more Summer's best dresses,  
Be beholden  
For their Golden  
Locks to Phoebus' flaming Tresses.   

O deliver  
Love his Quiver,  
From thy Eyes he shoots his Arrows,  
Where Apollo  
Cannot follow:  
Feathered with his Mother's Sparrows.   

O envy not  
(That we die not)  
Those dear lips whose door encloses  
All the Graces  
In their place●,  
Brother Pearls, and sister Roses.   

From these treasures  
Of ripe pleasures  
One bright smile to clear the weather.  
Earth and Heaven  
Thus made even,  
Both will be good friends together.   

The air does woo thee,  
Winds cling to thee,  
Might a word once fly from out thee;  
Storm and thunder  
Would fit under,  
And keep silence round about thee.   

But if nature's  
Common Creatures,  
So dear glories dare not borrow;  
Yet thy beauty  
Owes a duty,  
To my loving lingering sorrow.   

When my dying  
Life is flying;  
Those sweet Airs that often slew me;  
Shall revive me,  
Or reprieve me,  
And to many deaths renew me.    

The Cruel Maid.  
And cruel maid, because I see  
You scornful of my love, and me:  
I'll trouble you no more; but go  
My way, where you shall never know  
What is become of me: there I  
Will find me out a path to die;  
Or learn some way how to forget  
You, and your name, for ever: yet  
Ere I go hence, know this from me,  
What will, in time, your fortune be:  
This to your coyness I will tell;  
And having spoke it once, Farewell.  
The Lily will not long endure;  
Nor the Snow continue pure:  
The Rose, the Violet, one day  
See, both these Lady-flowers decay:  
And you must fade, as well as they.  
And it may chance that love may turn,  
And (like to mine) make your heart burn.  
And weep to see't; yet this thing do,  
That my last vow commends to you:  
When you shall see that I am dead,  
For pity let a tear be shed;  
And (with your Mantle o'er me cast)  
Give my cold lips a kiss at last:  
If twice you kiss, you need not fear,  
That I shall stir, or live more here.  
Next hollow out a Tomb to cover  
Me; me, the most despised Lover;  
And write thereon, This, Reader, know,  
Love killed this man. No more but so.   

Silence.  

No; to what purpose should I speak?  
No, wretched Heart, swell till you break!  
She cannot love me if she would;  
And to say truth, 'twere pity that she should.  
No, to the Grave thy sorrows bear,  
As silent as they will be there:  
Since that loved hand this mortal wound doth give,  
So handsomely the thing contrive,  
That she may guiltless of it live.  
So perish, that her killing thee  
May a chance Medley, and no murder be.   

'Tis nobler much for me, that I  
By ' her beauty, not her Anger die;  
This will look justly, and become  
An Execution, that a Martyrdom.  
The censuring world will ne'er refrain  
From judging men by thunder slain.  
She must be angry sure, if I should be  
So bold to ask her to make me  
By being hers, happier than she;  
I will not; 'tis a milder fate  
To fall by her not loving, than her hate.   

And yet this death of mine, I fear,  
Will ominous to her appear▪  
When, sound in every other part,  
Her sacrifice is found without an Heart;  
For the last tempest of my death  
Shall sigh out that too, with my breath.    

His Misery.  

Water, water I aspie:  
Come, and cool ye; all who fry  
In your loves; but none as I.   

Though a thousand showers be  
Still a falling, ye● I see  
Not one drop to light on me.   

Happy you, who can have seas  
For to quench ye, or some ease  
From your kinder Mistresses.   

I have one, and she alone  
Of a thousand thousand known,  
Dead to all compassion.   

Such an one, as will repeat  
Both the cause, and make the heat  
More by provocation great.   

Gentle friends, though I despair  
Of my cure, do you beware  
Of those Girls, which cruel are.    

The Call.  
Marina, stay,  
And run not thus like a young Roe away,  
No Enemy  
Pursues thee (foolish Girl) 'tis only I,  
I'll keep off harms,  
If thou'lt be pleased to garrison mine arms;  
What dost thou fear  
I'll turn a Traitor? may these Roses here  
To paleness shred,  
And Lilies stand disguised in new red,  
If that I lay  
A snare, wherein thou wouldst not gladly stay;  
See, see the Sun  
Doth slowly to his azure lodging run;  
Come sit but here,  
And presently he'll quit our Hemisphere;  
So still among  
Lovers, time is too short or else too long;  
Here will we spin  
Legends for them, that have love Martyrs been;  
Here on this plain  
we'll talk Narcissus to a flower again;  
Come here and choose  
On which of these proud plate thou wouldst  
Here mayst thou shame  
The rusty Violets, with the Crimson flame,  
Of either cheek;  
And Primroses white as thy fingers seek;  
Nay, thou mayst prove  
That man's most noble passion, is to love.   

A Check to her delay.  

Come come away,  
Or let me go;  
Must I here stay,  
Because y'are slow;  
And will continue so?  
Troth Lady, no.   

I scorn to be  
A slave to state:  
And since I'm free  
I will not wait,  
Henceforth at such a rate,  
For needy fate.   

If you desire  
My spark should glow,  
The peeping fire  
You must blow;  
Or I shall quickly grow  
To frost or snow.    

The L●re.  

Farewell, nay prithee turn again,  
Rather than lose thee, I'll arraign  
Myself before thee; thou (most fair) shall be  
Thyself the Judge;  
I'll never grudge  
A law, ordained by thee.   

Pray do but see, how every Rose  
A sanguine visage doth disclose,  
O see, what Aromatic gusts they breathe;  
Come here we'll sit,  
And learn to knit,  
Them up into a wreath.   

With that wreath, crowned shalt thou be;  
Not graced by it, but it thee;  
Then shall the fawning Zephir● wait to hear  
What thou shalt say,  
And softly play,  
While News to me they bear.   

Come prithee come, we'll now assay  
To piece the scantness of the day;  
we'll pluck the wheel● from th'charry of the Sun▪  
That he, may give  
Us time to live;  
Till that our Scene be done.   

we'll suffer viperous thoughts, and cares,  
To follow after silver hairs;  
Let's not anticipate them long before;  
When they begin,  
To enter in,  
Each minute they'll grow more.   

No, no, Marina, see this brook  
Howed would its posting course revoke,  
Ere it shall in the Ocean mingled lie,  
And what I pray,  
May cause this stay;  
But to attest our joy?   

Farneze be't from lust; such wild fire, ne'er  
Shall dare to lurk or kindle here;  
Diviner flames shall in our fancy's roll,  
Which not depress  
To earthliness,  
But elevate the soul.   

Then shall a grandized love, confess,  
That souls can mingle substances;  
That hearts can easily counter-changed be,  
Or at the least,  
Can alter breasts,  
When breasts themselves agree.    

To julia.  

'Tis Evening my sweet,  
And dark; let us meet;  
Long time w'have here been a toying:  
And never as yet,  
That season could get,  
Wherein t'have had an enjoying.   

For pity or shame,  
Then let not loves flame,  
Be ever and ever a spending;  
Since now to the Port  
The path is but short;  
And yet our way has no ending.   

Time flies away fast;  
Our hours do waste;  
The while we never remember,  
How soon our life, here,  
Grows old with the year,  
That dies with the next December.    

Of Beauty.  

What do I hate, what's Beauty? lass  
How doth it pass?  
As flowers, assoon as smelled at  
Evaporate,  
Even so this shadow, ere our eyes  
Can view it, fly's.   

What's colour? alas the sullen Night  
Can it affright;  
A Rose can more Vermilion speak,  
Then any cheek;  
A richer white on Lilies stands,  
Then any hands.   

Then what's the worth, when any flower  
Is worth far more?  
How constant'st that which needs must die  
When day doth fly?  
Glow-worm's, can lend some petty light,  
To gloomy night.   

And what's proportion? we descry  
That in a fly;  
And what's a lip? 'tis in the test  
Red clay at best.  
And what's an Eye? an Eaglets are  
More strong by far.   

Who can that specious nothing heed,  
Which flies exceed?  
Who would his frequent kisses lay  
On painted clay?  
Wh'would not if eyes affection move  
Young Eaglets love?   

Is beauty thus? then who would lie  
Lovesick and die?  
And's wretched self annihilate  
For knows not what?  
And with such sweat and care invade  
A very shade?   

Even he that knows not to possess  
True happiness,  
But has some strong desires to try  
What's misery,  
And longs for tears, oh he will prove  
One fit for love.    

Farewell to Love.  

Well-shadowed Landship, fare-ye-well:  
How I have loved you, none can tell,  
At least so well  
As he, that now hates more  
Than e'er he loved before.   

But my dear nothings, take your leave,  
No longer must you me deceive,  
Since I perceive  
All the deceit, and know  
Whence the mistake did grow.   

As he whose quicker eye doth trace  
A false star shot to a Market place,  
Does run apace,  
And thinking it to catch,  
A Jelly up does snatch.   

So our dull souls tasting delight  
Far off, by sense, and appetite,  
Think that is right  
And real good; when yet  
'Tis but the counterfeit.   

Oh! how I glory now; that I  
Have made this new discovery?  
Each wanton eye  
Inflamed before: no more  
Will I increase that score.   

If I gaze, now, 'tis but to see  
What manner of deaths-head 'twill be,  
When it is free  
From that fresh upper-skin,  
The gazer's joy and sin.   

A quick Coarse methinks I spy  
In every woman▪ and mine eye,  
At passing by,  
Check, and is troubled, just  
As if it rose from Dust.   

They mortify, not heighen me:  
These of my sins the Glasses be:  
And here I see,  
How I have loved before,  
And so I love no more.    

To a proud Lady.  
Is it birth puffs up thy mind?  
Women best born are best inclined.  
Is it thy breeding? No, I lied;  
Women well bred are foes to pride.  
Is it thy beauty, foolish thing?  
Lay by thy clothes, there's no such thing?  
Is it thy virtue? that's denied,  
virtue's an opposite to pride.  
Nay, then walk on, I'll say no more,  
Who made thee proud, can make thee poor.  
The Devil only hath the skill  
To draw fair fools to this foul ill.   

On Women.  
Find me an end out in a Ring,  
Turn a stream backwards to its spring,  
Recover minutes past and gone,  
Undo what is already done,  
Make Heaven stand still, make mountains fly,  
And teach a woman constancy.   

An Apologetique Song.  

Men, if you love us, play no more  
The fools, or Tyrants, with your friends,  
To make us still sing o'er and o'er,  
Our own false praises, for your ends.  
We have both wits and fancies too,  
And if we must, let's sing of you.   

Nor do we doubt, but that we can,  
If we would search with care and pain,  
Find some one good, in some one man;  
So going through all your strain,  
We shall at last of parcels make  
One good enough for a Song sake.   

And as a cunning Painter take●  
In any curious piece you see,  
More pleasure while the thing he makes,  
Then when 'tis made; why, so will we.  
And having pleased our art, we'll try  
To make a new, and hang that by    

Canto.  

Like to a Ring without a Finger,  
Or a Bell without a Ringer;  
Like a Horse was never ridden,  
Or a Feast and no Guest bidden,  
Like a Well without a Bucket,  
Or a Rose if no man pluck it:  
Just such as these may she be said,  
That lives, not loves, but dies a maid.   

The Ring if worn, the Finger decks,  
The Bell pulled by the Ringer speaks,  
The Horse doth ease, if he be ridden,  
The Feast doth please, if Guest be bidden,  
The Bucket draws the water●forth,  
The Rose when plucked, is still most worth:  
Such is the Virgin in my eyes,  
That lives, loves, marries, ere she dies.   

Like a Stock not graffed on,  
Or like a Lute not played upon,  
Like a Jack without a weight,  
Or a Bark without a freight,  
Like a Lock without a Key,  
Or a Candle in the day:  
Just such as these may she be said,  
That lives, not loves, but dies a maid.   

The graffed Stock doth bear best fruit,  
There's Music in the fingered Lute,  
The weight doth make the Jack go ready,  
The freight doth make the Bark go steady,  
The Key the Lock doth open right,  
A Candle's useful in the night:  
Such is the Virgin in my eyes,  
That lives, loves, marries, ere she dies.   

Like a Call without a Non-sir,  
Or a Question without an Answer,  
Like a Ship was never rigged,  
Or a Mine was never digged;  
Like a Cage without a Bird,  
Or a thing not long preferred.  
Just such as these may she be said,  
That lives, not loves, but dies a maid.   

The Non-sir doth obey the Call,  
The Question Answered pleaseth all,  
Who rigs a Ship sails with the wind,  
Who digs a Mine doth treasure find,  
The Wound by wholesome Tent hath ease,  
The Box perfumed the senses please:  
Such is the Virgin in my eyes,  
That lives, loves, marries ere she dies.   

Like Marrowbone was never broken,  
Or Commendation and no Token,  
Like a Fort and none to win it,  
Or like the Moon, and no man in it;  
Like a School without a Teacher,  
Or like a Pulpit and no Preacher.  
Just such as these may she be said,  
That lives, ne'er loves, but dies a maid.   

The broken Marrowbone is sweet,  
The Token doth adorn the greet,  
There's triumph in the Fort being won,  
The Man rides glorious in the Moon;  
The School is by the Teacher stilled,  
The Pulpit by the Preacher filled.  
Such is the Virgin in mine eyes,  
That lives, loves, marries, ere she dies.   

Like a Cage without a Bird,  
Or a thing too long deferred:  
Like the Gold was never tried,  
Or the ground unoccupied;  
Like a house that's not possessed  
Or the Book was never pressed.  
Just such as these may she be said,  
That lives, ne'er loves, but dies a maid.   

The Bird in Cage doth sweetly sing,  
Due season prefers every thing,  
The Gold that's tried from dross is pured,  
There's profit in the Ground manured,  
The House is by possession graced;  
The Book when pressed, is then embraced.  
Such is the Virgin in mine eyes,  
That lives, loves, marries, ere she dies.    

A Dissuasive from Women.  

Come away, do not pursue  
A shadow that will follow you.  
Women lighter than a feather,  
Got and lost and altogethar:  
Such a creature may be thought,  
Void of reason, a thing of nought.   

2.  
Come away, let not thine eyes  
Gaze upon their fopperies,  
Nor thy better Genius dwell  
Upon a subject known so well:  
For whose folly at the first  
Man and beast became accursed.   

3.  
Come away, thou canst not find,  
One of all that's fair and kind,  
Brighter be she then the day,  
Sweeter than a morn in May;  
Yet her heart and tongue agrees  
As we and the Antipodes.   

4.  
Come away, or if thou must  
Stay a while: yet do not trust,  
Nor her sighs, nor what she swears.  
Say she weep, suspect her tears.  
Though she seem to melt with passion,  
'Tis old deceit, but in new fashion.   

5.  
Come away, admit there be  
A natural necessity;  
Do not make thyself a slave  
For that which she desires to have.  
What she will, or do, or say,  
Is meant the clean contrary way.   

6.  
Come away, or if to part  
Soon from her, affects thy heart,  
Follow on thy sports a while,  
Laugh and kiss, and play a while:  
Yet as thou lov'st me, trust her not,  
Left thou becomest a— I know not wh●●.    

An Answer to it.  

Stay, O stay, and still pursue,  
Bid not such happiness adieu,  
knowst thou what a woman is?  
An Image of Celestial bliss.  
Such a one is thought to be  
The nearest to Divinity.   

2.  
Stay, O stay, how can thine eye  
Feed on more felicity?  
Or thy better Genius dwell  
On subjects that do this excel?  
Had it not been for her at first;  
Man and beast had lived accursed.   

3.  
Stay, O stay, has not there been  
O● Beauty, and of Love a Queen?  
Does not sweetness term a she  
Worthy its only shrine to thee?  
And where will virtue choose to lie,  
If not in such a Treasury?   

4.  
Stay, O stay, wouldst thou live free?  
Then seek a Nuptial destiny:  
'Tis not nature's bliss alone,  
(She gives) but Heavens, and that in one;  
What she shall, or do, or say,  
Never from truth shall go astray.   

5.  
Stay, O stay, let not thine heart  
Afflicted be, unless to part  
Soon from her. Sport, kiss and play  
Whilst no hours enrich the day:  
And if thou dost a Cuckold prove,  
Impute it to thy want of love.    

The Postscript.  
Good Women are like Stars in darkest night,  
Their virtuous actions shining as a light  
To guide their ignorant sex, which oft times ●all▪  
And falling oft, turns Diabolical.  
Good Women sure are Angels on the earth,  
Of these good Angels we have had a dearth:  
And therefore all you men that have good wives,  
Respect their Virtue's equal with your lives.   

The Description of Women.  
Whose head befringed with b●-scattered ●resse●▪  
Shew● like Apoll●es, when the morn he dresse●:  
Or like Aurora when with Pearl she sets,  
Her long discheveld Rose-crowned Trammelets:  
Her forehead smooth, full, polished, bright and high,  
Bears in itself a graceful Majesty;  
Under the which, two crawling eyebrows twine  
Like to the tendrils of a flattering Vine:  
Under whose shade, two starry sparkling eyes  
Are beautified with fair fringed Canopies.  
Her comely nose with uniformall grace,  
Like purest white, stands in the middle place,  
Parting the pair, as we may well suppose,  
Each cheek resembling still a damask Rose;  
Which like a Garden manifestly shown,  
How Roses, Lilies, and Carnations grown;  
Which sweetly mixed both with white and red,  
Like Rose-leaves, white and red, seem mingled.  
Then nature for a sweet allurement sets  
Two smelling, swelling, bashful Cherry-lets;  
The which with Ruby-rednesse being tipped,  
Do speak a Virgin merry, Cherry●lip'd.  
Over the which a 〈◊〉 sweet skin is drawn,  
Which makes them show like Roses under Lawn.  
These be the Ruby-portalls and divine,  
Which open themselves, to show an holy shrine,  
Whose breach is rich perfume, that to the sense  
Smells like the burned Sabean Frankincense;  
In which the tongue, though 〈…〉 member sm●ll  
Stand guarded with a Rosie-hilly-wall.  
And her white teeth, which in the gums are set,  
Like Pearl and Gold, make one rich Cabinet:  
Next doth her chin, with dimpled beauty 〈◊〉  
For his white, plump, and smooth prerogative.  
At whose fair top, to please the sight the●e grow●  
The fairest image of a blushing rose;  
Moved by the chin, whose motion causeth this,  
That both her lips do part, do meet, do 〈◊〉  
Her ears, which like two Labyrinths are pla●●d  
On either side, with which rare Jewels graced:  
Moving a qu●st●on whether that by them  
The Gem is graced, or they graced by the Gem.  
But the foundation of the Architect,  
Is the Swan-staining, fair, rare stately ●eck,  
Which with ambitious humbleness stands under,  
Bearing aloft this rich round world of wonder.  
Her breast a place for beauty's throne most fit,  
Bears up two Globes, where love and pleasure sit;  
Which headed with two rich round Rubies, show  
Like wanton Rosebuds growing out of Snow,  
And in the milky valley that's between,  
Sits Cupid kissing of his mother Queen.  
Then comes the belly, seated next below,  
Like a fair mountain in Riphean snow:  
Where Nature in a whiteness without spot,  
Hath in the middle tide a Gordian knot.  
Now love invites me to survey her thighs,  
Swelling in likeness like two Crystal 〈◊〉;  
Which to the knees by nature fastened on,  
Derive their e●er well agreed motion.  
Her legs with two clear Calves, like silver tried,  
Kindly swell up with little pretty pride;  
Leaving a distance for the comely small  
To beautify the leg and foot withal.  
Then lowly, yet most lovely stand the feet,  
Round, short and clear, like pounded Spices sweet;  
And whatsoever thing they tread upon,  
They make it sent like bruised Cinnamon.  
The lovely shoulders now allure the eye,  
To see two Tablets of pure Ivory:  
From which two arms like branches seem to spread  
With tender veined, and silver coloured,  
With little hands, and fingers long and small,  
To grace a Lute, a Vial, Virginal.  
In length each finger doth his next excel,  
Each richly headed with a pearly shell.  
Thus every part in contrariety  
Meet in the whole, and make an harmony:  
As divers strings do singly disagree,  
But formed by number make sweet melody.   

Her supposed servant, described.  

I would have him if I could,  
Noble; or of greater Blood:  
Titles, I confess, do take me;  
And a woman God did make me,  
French to boo●, at least in fashion,  
And his manners of that Nation.   

Young I'd have him to, and fair,  
Yet a man; with crisped hair  
Cast in a thousand snares, and rings  
For loves fingers, and his wings:  
Chestnut colour, or more slack  
Gold, upon a ground of black.  
Venus, and Minerva's eyes,  
For he must look wanton-wise.   

Eyebrows bend like Cupid's bow,  
Front, an ample field of snow;  
Even nose, and cheek (withal)  
Smooth as is the Biliard Ball;  
Chin, as wholly as the Peach;  
And his lip should kissing teach,  
Till he cherished too much beard,  
And make love or me afeard.   

He should have a hand as soft  
As the Down, and show it oft;  
Skin as smooth as any rush,  
And so thin to see a blush  
Rising through it ere it came;  
All his blood should be a flame  
Quickly fired as in beginners  
In Love's School, and yet no sinners.   

'Twere too long to speak of all  
What we harmony do call  
In a body should be there.  
Well he should his clothes to wear;  
Yet no Tailor help to make him  
Dressed, you still for man should take him;  
And not think h'had eat a stake,  
Or were set up in a brake.   

Valiant he should be as fire,  
Showing danger more than ire.  
Bounteous as the clouds to earth;  
And as honest as his birth.  
All his actions to be such  
As to do nothing too much.  
Nor o're-praise, nor yet condemn;  
Nor out-valew, nor contemn;  
Nor do wrongs, nor wrongs receive;  
Nor tie knots, nor knots unweave;  
And from baseness to be free,  
As he durst love truth and me.   

Such a man with every part,  
I could give my very heart;  
But of one, if short he came,  
I can rest me where I am.    

Another Lady's exception.  
For his mind, I do not care,  
That's a toy that I could spare;  
Let his Title be but great,  
His clothes rich, and band sit neat,  
Himself young, and face be good,  
All I wish 'tis understood.  
What you please, you parts may call,  
'Tis one good part I'd lie withal.   

Abroad with the Maids.  
Come sit we under yonder Tree,  
Where merry as the Maids we'll be,  
And as on Primroses we sit,  
We'll venture (if we can) ●t wit:  
If not, at Draw-gloves we will play;  
So spend some Minutes of the day;  
Or else spin out the thread of sands,  
Playing at Questions and Commands:  
Or tell what strange tricks love can do,  
By quickly making one of two.  
Thus we will sit and talk; but tell  
No cruel truths of Philomel,  
Or Phillis, whom hard Fate forced on,  
To kill herself for Demophon.  
But Fables we'll relate; how jove  
Put on all shapes to get a Love;  
As now a satire, than a Swan;  
A Bull but then; and now a Man.  
Next we will act how young men woe;  
And sigh, and kiss, as Lovers do,  
And talk of Brides; and who shall make  
That wedding smock, this Bridal-Cake;  
That dress, this sprig, that leaf, this vine;  
That smooth and silken Columbine.  
This done, we'll draw lots, who shall buy  
And gild the Bays, and Rosemary:  
What Posies, for our wedding Rings;  
What Gloves we'll give and Ribonings:  
And smiling at ourselves, decree,  
Who then the joining Priest shall be.  
What short sweet Prayers shall be said;  
And how the Posset shall be made  
With Cream of Lilies (not of Kine)  
And Maidens-blush, for spiced wine.  
Thus having talked, we'll next commend  
A kiss to each; and so we'll end.   

The Shepherd's Holiday.  Mopso and Marina. Mop. 
Come Marina let's away,  
For both Bride, and Bridegroom stay:  
Fie for shame, are Swains so long  
Pinning of their Headgear on?  
Prithee see,  
None but we  
Amongst the Swains are left unready:  
Fie, make haft,  
Bride is past,  
Follow me, and I will lead thee.  Mar. 
On, my loving Mopsus, on,  
I am ready, all is done  
From my head unto my foot,  
I am fitted each way too't;  
Buskins gay,  
Gown of grey,  
Best that all our Flocks do render;  
Hat of Straw,  
Plaited through,  
Cherry lip, and middle slender.  Mop. 
And I think you will not find  
Mopsus any whit behind,  
For he loves as well to go,  
As most part of Shepherds do.  
Cap of brown.  
Bottle-crowne,  
With the leg I won at dancing,  
And a pump,  
Fit to jump,  
When we Shepherds fall a prancing.  
And I know there is a sort▪  
Will be well provided for  
For I hear, there will be there,  
Liveliest Swains within the shiers:  
Jetting Gill,  
Jumping Will;  
O'er the floor will have their measure:  
Kit and Kate  
There will wait▪  
Tib and Tom will take their pleasure.  Mar. 
But I fear;  Mop. 
What dost thou fear?  Mar. 
Crowd the Fiddler is not there:  
And my mind delighted i●  
With no stroke so much as hi●.  Mop. 
If not he;  
There will be  
Drone the Piper that will trounce it.  Mar. 
But i● Crowd  
Struck aloud;  
Lord methinks how I could bounce it.  Mop. 
Bounce it Mall I hope thou will,  
For I know that thou hast skill▪  
And I am sure, thou there shalt find  
Measures store to please thy mind.  
Roundelays.  
Irish hays,  
Cog● and Rongs, and Peggy Ramsy,  
Spaniletto,  
The Venetto,  
john come kiss me, wilson's fancy.  Mar. 
But of all there's none so sprightly  
To my ear, as Touch me lightly;  
For it's this we Shepherd's love,  
Being that which most doth move;  
There, there, there,  
To a hair;  
O Tim Crowd, me thinks I hear thee,  
Young nor old,  
ne'er could hold,  
But must leak if they come near thee.  Mop. 
Blush Marina, fie for shame,  
Blemish not a Shepherd's name;  Mar. 
Mopsus, why, is't such a matter,  
Maid● to show their yielding nature?  
O what then,  
Be ye men,  
That will hear yourselves so forward,  
When you find  
Us inclined  
To your bed and board so toward?  Mop. 
True indeed, the fault is ours,  
Though we term it oft time yours.  Mar. 
What would Shepherds have us do,  
But to yield when they do woe?  
And we yield  
Them the field,  
And endow them with their riches.  Mop. 
Yet we know  
Oft times too,  
You'll not stick to wear the Breeches.  Mar. 
Fools they'll deem them, that do hear them,  
Say their wives are wont to wear them;  
For I know, there's none has wit,  
Can endure or suffer it;  
But if they  
Have no stay,  
Nor discretion (as 'tis common)  
Then they may●●  
Give the sway▪  
As is fitting, to the Woman.  Mop. 
All too long (dear Love) I ween,  
Have we stood upon this Theme:  
Let each Lass, a● once it was,  
Love her Swain, and 〈◊〉 his Lass:  
So shall we  
Honoured be,  
In our mating, in our meeting,  
While we stand  
Hand in hand,  
Honest Swainling, with his Sweeting.   

Alvar and Anthea.  
Come Anthea let us two  
Go to Feast, as others do.  
Tarts and Custards, Cream and Cakes,  
Are the junkets still at Wakes:  
Unto which the Tribes resort,  
Where the business is the sport:  
Morris-dancers thou shalt see,  
Marian too in Pagentrie:  
And a Mimic to devise  
Many grinning properties  
Players there will be, and those  
Base in action as in clothes▪  
Yet with strutting they will please  
The incurious Villages.  
Near the dying of the day  
There will be a Cudgel-play,  
Where a Coxcomb will be broke,  
Ere a good word can be spoke●▪  
But the anger ends all here▪  
Drenched in Ale, or drowned in Beer  
Happy Rustics, best content  
With the cheapest Merriment:  
And possess no other fear,  
Then to want the Wake next year.   

The Wake.  

ay, and whither shall we go●?  
To the Wake I trow:  
'Tis the Village Lord Majors show,  
Oh! to meet I will not fa●le;  
For my palate is in haste,  
Till I sip again and taste  
Of the Nutbrown Lass and Ale.   

Feel how my Temples ache  
For the Lady of the Wake;  
Her lips are as soft as a Meddler  
With her posies and her points,  
And the Ribbons on her joints,  
The device of the fields and the Pedlar.    

Enter Maurice-Dancer.  
 
With a noise and a Din,  
Comes the Maurice-Dancer in:  
With a fine linen shirt, but a Buckram skin.  
Oh! he treads out such a Peal  
From his pair of legs of Veal,  
The Quarters are Idols to him.  
Nor do those Knaves environ  
Their Toes with so much iron,  
'Twill ruin a Smith to shoe him.  
ay, and then he flings about,  
His sweat and his clout,  
The wiser think it two els:  
While the Yeomen find it meet,  
That he jangle at his feet,  
The Fore-horses right Ear Jewels.   

Enter Fidler.  
 
But before all be done,  
With a Christopher strong,  
Comes Music none, though Fiddler one,  
While the Owl and his Granchild,  
With a face like a Manchild,  
Amazed in their Nest,  
Awake from the Rest,  
And seek out an Oak to laugh in.  
Such a dismal chance,  
Makes the Churchyard dance,  
When the Screech Owl guts string a Coffin.  
When a Fiddler's coarse,  
Catches cold and grows hoarse,  
Oh ye never heard a sadder,  
When a Rattleheaded Cutter,  
Makes his will before Supper,  
To the Tune of the Noose and the Ladder.   

Enter the Taberer.  
 
ay, but all will not do,  
Without a pass or two,  
From him that pipes and Tabers the Tattoo.  
He's a man that can tell 'em,  
Such a Jig from his velum;  
With his Whistle & his Club,  
And his braced half Tub,  
That I think there ne'er came before ye,  
Though the Moths lodged in't,  
Or in Manuscript or print,  
Such a pitiful parchment story.  
He that hammers like a Tinker  
Kettle Music is a stinker,  
Our Taberer bids him hark it;  
Though he thrash till he sweats,  
And out the bottom beats  
Of his two Dosser Drums to the Market   

Enter the Bagpiper.  
 
Bagpiper good luck on you,  
thouart a Man for my money;  
Him the Bears love better than honey.  
How he tickles up his skill,  
With his bladder and his quill;  
How he swells till he blister.  
While he gives his mouth a Glister,  
Nor yet does his Physic grieve him;  
His chaps they would not tarry,  
For a tried Apothecary,  
But the Harper comes in to relieve him.  
Whose Music took its fountain,  
From the Bog or the Mountain,  
For better was never afforded.  
Strings hop and rebound,  
Oh the very same sound  
May be struck from a truckle-bed coarded.   

Cock-throwing.  
Cock-a-doodle-doe, 'tis the bravest game,  
Take a Cock from his Dame,  
And bind him to a st●k●▪  
How he strutt● how he throws,  
How he swaggers, how he crows,  
As if the day newly broke.  
How his Mistress Cackles,  
Thus to find him in shackles,  
And tied to a Packthread Garter;  
Oh the Bears and the Bulls,  
Are but Corpulent Gulls  
To the valiant Shrovetide Martyr.   

Canto.  

Let no Poet Critic in his Ale,  
Now tax me for a heedless Tale,  
For ere I have done, my honest Ned,  
I'll 〈◊〉 my matter to a head.   

The Brazen Head speak● through the Nose,  
More Logic than the College knows:  
Quicksilver Heads run over all,  
But Dunces Heads keep Leaden-ball.   

A Quirristers Head is made of air,  
A Head of wax becomes a Player,  
So pliant 'tis to any shape,  
A King, a Clown, but still an Ape.   

A melancholy head it was,  
That thought itself a Venice glass;  
But when I see a drunken sot,  
Methinks his Head's a Chamberpot.   

A Poet's Head is made of Match,  
Burnt Sack is apt to make it catch;  
Well may he gri●● his household bread,  
That hath a Windmill in his Head.   

There is the tongue of ignorance,  
That hates the time it cannot dance;  
Show him dear wit in Verse or Prose,  
It reeks like Brimstone in his nose;  
But when his Granhams will is read,  
O dear! (quoth he) and shakes his head.  
French heads taught ours the graceful shake,  
They learned it in the last Earthquake.   

The gentle head makes mouths in state,  
At the Mechanic beaver pate.  
The empty head of mere Esquire,  
Scorns wit; as born a title higher.  
In Capite he holds his lands,  
His wisdom in Fee-simple stands.  
Which he may call for, and be sped,  
Out of the Footman's running head.   

The Saracens, not Gorgon's head,  
Can look old ten in th'hundred dead  
But death's head on his finger's ends,  
Afflicts him more than twenty fiends  
An Oxford Cook that is well read,  
Knows how to dress a Critics head.  
Take out the brains, and 〈◊〉 the notes,  
O rare Calves-head for 〈◊〉 throats.   

Prometheus would be puzzled,  
To make a new Projectors head:  
He hath such subtle turns and nooks,  
Such turn-pegs, mazes, tenterhooks:  
A trap-door here, and there a vault,  
Should you go in, you'd sure be caught;  
This head, if e'er the headsman stick,  
He'll spoil the subtle politic.   

Six heads there are will ne'er be seen,  
The first a Maid past twice sixteen:  
The next is of an Unicorn,  
Which when I see, I'll trust his horn;  
A Beggars in a beaver; and  
A Giant in a Pigmy's 〈◊〉▪  
A Coward in a Lady's lap,  
A good man in a Friars cap.   

The plural head of multitude,  
Will make good hodg-podge when 'tis stude;  
Now I have done my honest Ned,  
And brought my matter to a Head.    

Interrogative Camilena.  

If all the world were Paper,  
And all the Sea were Ink;  
If all the Trees were bread and cheese,  
How should we do for drink?   

If all the World were sand'o,  
Oh than what should we lack'o;  
If as they say there were no clay,  
How should we take Tobacco?   

If all our vessels ran'a,  
If none but had a crack'a;  
If Spanish Apes eat all the Grapes,  
How should we do for Sack'a?   

If Friars had no bald pate●▪  
Nor Nuns had no dark Cloisters,  
If all the Seas were 〈◊〉 and Pease,  
How should we do for Oysters?   

If there had been no projects,  
Nor none that did great wrongs;  
If Fiddlers shall turn Players all,  
How should we do for songs?   

If all things were eternal,  
And nothing their end bringing;  
If this should be, then how should we,  
Here make an end of singing?    

The seven Planets.  

♄ ♃ ♂ ☉ ♀ ☿ ☽  
SATURN diseased with age, and left for dead;  
Changed all his gold, to be in involved in Lead.   

JOVE, juno leaves, and loves to take his range;  
From whom, man learns to love, and loves to change▪   

JUNO checks jove, that he to earth should come  
Having herself to sport withal at home.   

MARS is disarmed, and is to Venus gone,  
Where Vulcan's Anvil must be struck upon.   

〈◊〉 sees, yet 'cause he may not be allowed,  
●o say he sees, he hides him in a cloud.   

VENUS tells Vulcan, Mars shall shoe her Steed,  
For he it is that hits the nail o'th' head.   

The Aery-nuntius sly MERCURIUS,  
●s stolen from Heaven to Galobelgicus.   

LUNA is deemed chaste, yet she'● a sinner,  
Witness the man that she receives within her:  
But that she's horned it cannot well be said,  
Since I ne'er heard that she was married.    

The 12 Signs of the Zodiac.  

♈  
Venus to Mars, and Mars to Venus came,  
Venus contrived, and Mars confirmed the same:  
〈◊〉 the place, the game what best did please,  
〈◊〉 Vulcan▪ found the Sun in ARIES.   

♉  
TAURUS', as it hath been alleged by some,  
●s fled from Neck and Throat to roar at Rome.  
〈◊〉 now the Bull is grown to such a rate,  
The price has brought the Bull quite out of date.   

♋  
CANCER the backward Crab is figured here.  
O'er stomach, breast, and ribs to domineer.  
Eve on a rib was made, whence we may know,  
Women from Eve were Crabbed and backward too▪   

♍  
VIRGO the Phoenix sign (as all can tell ye)  
Has regiment o'er bowels, and o'er belly.  
But now since Virgo could not her belly tame,  
Belly has forced Virgo to lose her name.   

♏  
SCORPIO Serpent-like, most slily tenders,  
What much seduceth man, his privy members:  
Which moved our Grandam Eve give ear unto  
That secret-member-patron Scorpio.   

♑  
The goatish CAPRICORN that used to press  
Amongst naked Mermaidens, now's fallen on ●s 〈◊〉  
Where crest-faln too (poor Snake) he lies as low  
As those on whom he did his horns bestow.   

♊  
With arm in arm our GEMINI enwreath,  
Their individuate parts in life and death:  
The arms and shoulders sway, O may I have  
But two such friends to have me to my grave.   

♌  
LEO a Port-like Prelate now become,  
Emperiously retires to th' Sea of Rome:  
A Sea, and yet no Levant-sea, for than  
He were no Leo, but Leviathan.   

♎  
LIBRA the reins, which we may ●ustly call  
A sign which Tradesmen hate the worst of all:  
For she implies even weights, but do not look  
To find this sign in every Grocers-book.   

♐  
If thou wouldst please the lass that thou dost marry,  
The sign must ever be in SAGITTARY:  
Which rules the thighs, an influence more common  
Mongst Marmosites & Monkeys, than some women.   

♒  
AQUARIUS (as I informed am)  
Kept Puddle-wharf, and was a Waterman,  
But being one too honest for that kind,  
He rowed to Heaven, and left those knaves behind.   

♓  
PISCIS the fish is said to rule the feet,  
And socks with all that keep the feet from sweat▪  
One that purveyes provision enough,  
Of Ling, Poore-Iohn, and other Lenten stuff.    

A Hymn to Bacchus.  

I sing thy praise Bacchus,  
Who with thy Thyrse dost thwack us:  
And yet thou so dost black us   

With boldness that we fear  
No Brutus entering here;  
Nor Cato the severe.   

What though the Lictors threat us,  
We know they dare not beat us;  
So long as thou dost heat us.   

When we thy Orgies sing,  
Each Cobbler is a King;  
Nor dreads he any thing.   

And though he doth not rave,  
Yet he'll the courage have  
To call my Lord Major knave;  
Besides too, in a brave.   

Although he has no riches,  
But walks with dangling breeches,  
And skirts that want their stitches;  
And shows his naked flitches;   

Yet he'll be thought or seen;  
So good as George-a-Green;  
And calls his Blouze, his Queen,  
And speaks in a Language keen.   

O Bacchus! let us be  
From cares and troubles free;  
And thou shalt hear how we  
Will Chant new Hymns to thee.    

The Welshmans praise of Wales.  

I's not come here to talk of Prut,  
From whence the Welsh do● take her root;  
Nor tell long Pedigree of Prince Camber,  
Whose lineage would fill full a Chamber,  
Nor sing the deeds of old Saint Davie,  
The Ursip of which would fill a Navy.  
But hark you me now, for a liddell tales  
Shall make a gread deal to the credit of Wales.  
For her will tudge your ●ares,  
With the praise of her thirteen Seers;  
And make you as clad and merry,  
As fouteen pot of Perry.   

'Tis true, was wear him Jerkin freeze,  
But what is that? we have store of seize;  
And God is plenty of Coats milk  
That sell him well will buy him silk  
Enough, to make him fine to quarrel  
At Herford Sizes in new apparel;  
And get him as much green Melmet perhaps,  
Shall give it a face to his Momouth Cap.  
But then the ore of Lemster;  
Py Cot is uver a Sempster;  
That when he is spun, or did  
Yet match him with her third.   

Aull this the backs now, let us tell ye,  
Of some provisions for the belly:  
As Cid and Goat, and great Goat's Mother,  
And Runt, and Cow, and good Cow's uther.  
And once but taste on the Welsh Mutton;  
Your Englis Seeps not worth a button.  
And then for your Fisse, shall shoose it your disse,  
Look but about, and there is a Trout.  
A Salmon, Cor, or Chevin,  
Will feed you six or seven,  
As taul● man as ever swagger  
With Welsh Club, and long Dagger.   

But all this while, was never think  
A word in praise of our Welsh drink:  
Yet for aull that, is a Cup of Bragat,  
Aull England Seer may cast his Cap at.  
And what you say to Ale of Webley,  
Toudge him as well, you'll praise him trebly,  
As well as Metheglin, or Cider, or Meath,  
S'all sake it your dagger quite out o'the seath.  
And Oat-Cake of Guarthenion,  
With a goodly Leek or Onion,  
To give as sweet a relliss  
As e'er did Harper Ellis.   

And yet is nothing now all this,  
〈◊〉 of our Musics we do miss;  
Both Harps, and Pipes too, and the Crowd,  
Must aull come in, and tauk aloud,  
As loud as Bang●●, Davies Bell,  
Of which is no doubt you have here tell:  
As well as our louder Wrexam Organ,  
And rumbling Rocks in the Seer of Glamorgan,  
Where look but in the ground there,  
And you shall see a sound there;  
That put her all to gedder,  
Is sweet as measure pedder.    

Hur in Love.  
A modest Shentle when her see  
The great laugh her made on me,  
And fine wink that her send  
To her come to see her friend:  
Her could not strose py Got apove,  
Put was entangle in her love.  
A hundred a time her was about  
To speak to her, and lave her out,  
Put her being a Welshman porne,  
And therefore was think, her would her scorn:  
Was fear her think, nothing better,  
Then cram her love into a Letter;  
Hoping he will no ceptions take  
Unto her love, for Country sake:  
For say her be Welshman, whad ten?  
Py Got they all be Shentlemen.  
Was decend from Shoves noun line,  
Par humane, and par divine;  
And from Venus, that fair Goddess,  
And twenty other Shentle poddy●:  
Hector stout, and comely Paris,  
Arthur, Prute, and King of Fayris,  
Was her noun Cousins all a kin  
We have the powel's issue in:  
And for aught that her con see,  
As good men, as other men pee:  
But hot of that? Love is a knave,  
Was make her do hot he would have;  
Was compel her write the Rhyme,  
That ne'er was writ before the time  
And if he will nod pity her pain,  
As Got shudge her soul, shall ne'er write again:  
For love is like an Ague-fit,  
Was brin poor Welseman out on her wit:  
Till by her onswer, her do know  
Whother her do love her, ai or no.  
Hur has not been in England lung,  
And conna speak the Englis tongue:  
Put her is her friend, and so her will prove,  
Pray a send her word, if her con love.   

Of Melancholy.  

When I go musing all alone,  
Thinking of divers things foreknown,  
When I build Castles in the air,  
Vold of sorrow and void of fear,  
Pleasing myself with phantasms sweet,  
Me thinks the time runs very fleet.  
All my joys to this are folly,  
Naught so sweet as melancholy.   

When I lie waking all alone,  
Recounting what I have ill done,  
My thoughts on me then tyrannize,  
Fear and sorrow me surprise,  
Whether I tarry still or go,  
Methinks the time moves very slow.  
All my griefs to this are jolly,  
Naught so sad as melancholy.   

When to myself I act and smile,  
With pleasing thoughts the time beguile,  
By a brook side or wood so green,  
Unheard, unsought for, or unseen,  
A thousand pleasures do me bless,  
And crown my soul with happiness.  
All my joys besides are folly,  
None so sweet as melancholy.   

When I lie, sit, or walk alone,  
I sigh, I grieve, making great moan,  
In a dark grove, or irksome den,  
With discontents and Furies then,  
A thousand miseries at once,  
Mine heavy heart and soul ensconce.  
All my griefs to this are jolly,  
None so sour as melancholy.   

Me thinks I hear, me thinks I see,  
Sweet Music, wondrous melody,  
Towns, places and Cities fine,  
Here now, then there, the world is mine,  
Rare Beauties, gallant Ladies shine,  
What e'er is lovely or divine,  
All other joys to this are folly,  
None so sweet as melancholy.   

Me thinks I hear, me thinks I see  
Ghosts, goblins, fiends, my fantasy  
Presents a thousand ugly shapes,  
Headless bears, blackmen and apes,  
Dolefull outcries, and fearful sights,  
My sad and dismal soul affrights.  
All my griefs to this are jolly,  
None so damned as melancholy.   

Me thinks I court, me thinks I kiss,  
Me thinks I now embrace my Mistress.  
O blessed days, O sweet content,  
In Paradise my time is spent,  
Such thoughts may still my fancy move,  
So may I ever be in love.  
All my joys to this are folly,  
Naught so sweet as Melancholy.   

When I recount loves many frights,  
My sighs and tears, my waking nights,  
My jealous fits; O mine hard fate,  
I now repent, but 'tis too late.  
No torment is so bad as love,  
So bitter to my soul can prove.  
All my griefs to this are jolly,  
Naught so harsh as Melancholy.   

Friends and Companions get you gone,  
'Tis my desire to be alone,  
ne'er well but when my thoughts and I,  
Do domineer in privacy.  
No Gem no treasure like to this,  
'Tis my delight, my Crown, my bliss.  
All my joys to this are folly,  
Naught so sweet as Melancholy.   

'Tis my sole plague to be alone,  
I am a beast, a monster grown,  
I will no light nor company,  
I find it now my misery.  
The scene is turned, my joys are gone,  
Fear, discontent, and sorrows come.  
All my griefs to this are jolly,  
Naught so fierce as Melancholy.   

I'll not change life with any King,  
I ravished am: can the world bring  
More joy, than still to laugh and smile,  
In pleasant toys time to beguile?  
Do not, O do not trouble me,  
So sweet content I feel and see.  
All my joys to this are folly,  
None so divine as Melancholy.   

I'll change my state with any wretch,  
Thou canst from gaol or dunghill fetch:  
My pain's past cure, another Hell,  
I may not in this torment dwell.  
Now desperate I hate my life,  
Lend me an halter or a knife.  
All my griefs to this are jolly,  
Naught so damned as Melancholy.    

On the Letter O.  
Run round my lines, whilst I as roundly show  
The birth, the worth, the extent of my round O  
That O which in the indigested Mass  
Did frame itself, when nothing framed was.  
But when the world's great mass itself did show,  
〈◊〉 largeness, fairness, roundness a great O.  
The Heavens, the Element, a box of O's,  
Where still the greater doth the less enclose.  
The imaginary centre in O's made,  
That speck which in the world doth stand or fade.  
The Zodiac, Colours, and Equator line,  
In Tropic and Meridian O did shine,  
The lines of breadth, and lines of longitude,  
Climate from Climate, doth by O seclude.  
And in the starry spangled sky the O  
Makes us the day from night distinctly know.  
And by his motion, round as in a ring,  
Light to himself, light to each O doth bring;  
In each day's journey, in his circle round,  
The framing of an O by sense is found.  
The Moon hath to the O's frame most affection:  
But the Sun's envy grudgeth such perfection.  
Yet Diana hath each month, and every year,  
Learned an O's frame in her front to bear.  
And to requite Sols envy with the like,  
With oft Eclipses at his O doth strike  
In our inferior bodies there doth grow  
Matter enough to show the worth of O.  
Our brains and heart, either in O doth lie,  
So that the nest of O's the sparkling eye.  
The ribs in meeting, fashion an O's frame,  
The mouth and ear, the nostrils bear the same.  
The Latins honouring the chiefest parts,  
Gloryed to make our O the heart of hearts;  
Fronting it with three words of deepest sense,  
Order, Opinion, and Obedience.  
Oft have I seen a reverend dimmed eye,  
By the help of O to read most legibly.  
Each drop of rain that falls, each flower that grows  
Each coin that's current doth resemble O's.  
Into the water, if a stone we throw,  
Mark how each circle joins to make an O.  
Cut but an Orange, you shall easily find,  
Yellow with white and watery O's combined.  
O doth preserve a trembling Conjurer,  
Who from his Circle O doth never stir.  
O from a full throat Cryer, if it come,  
striketh the tumultuous roaring people dumb.  
The thundering Cannon from this dreadful O,  
Ruin to walls, and death to men doth throw.  
O utters woes, O doth express our joys,  
O wonders shows, O riches, or O toys.  
And O ye women which do fashions fall,  
O ●●tre, O gorget, and O farthingale,  
And O ye spangles, O ye golden O's  
That art upon the rich embroidered throws  
Think not we mock, though our displeasing pen  
Sometime doth write, you bring an O to men,  
'Tis no disparagement to you ye know,  
Since Ops the God's great Grandam bears an O;  
Your sex's glory (Fortune) though she reel,  
Is ever constant to her O, her wheel,  
And you Caroches through the street that glide,  
By art of four great O's do help you ride.  
When tables full, and cups do overflow,  
Is not each cup, each salt, each dish an O?  
What is't that dreadful makes a Prince's frown,  
But that his head bears golden O the Crown?  
Unhappy then th'arithmetician, and  
He that makes O a barren Cipher stand.  
Let him know this, that we know in his place,  
a O adds number, with a figures grace;  
And that O which for cipher he doth take,  
One dash may easily a thousand make.  
But O enough, I have done my reader wrong,  
Mine O was round, and I have made it long.   

Pure Nonsense.  
When Neptune's blasts, and Boreas' blazing storms,  
When Triton's pitchfork cut off Vulcan's horns,  
When Aeolus boisterous Sunbeams grew so dark,  
That Mars in Moonshine could not hit the mark:  
Then did I see the gloomy day of Troy,  
When poor Aeneas leglesse ran away,  
Who took the torrid Ocean in his hand,  
And sailed to them all the way by land:  
An horrid sight to see Achilles' fall,  
He broke his neck, yet had no hurt at all.  
But being dead, and almost in a trance,  
He threatened forty thousand with his lance.  
Indeed 'twas like such strange ●ights than were seen  
An ugly, rough, black Monster all in green.  
That all about the white, blue, round, square, sky;  
The fixed Stars hung by Geometry.  
juno amazed, and jove surprised with wonder,  
Caused Heaven to shake, and made the mountain's thunder.  
Which caused Aeneas once again retire,  
Drowned Aetna's hill, and burned the Sea with fire.  
Nilus for fear to see the Ocean burn,  
Went still on forward in a quick return.  
Then was that broil of Agamemnon's done,  
When trembling Ajax to the battle come.  
He struck stark dead (they now are living still)  
Five hundred mushrooms with his martial bill.  
Nor had himself escaped, as some men say,  
If he being dead, he had not run away.  
O monstrous, hideous Troops of Dromidaries,  
How Bears and Bulls from Monks and Goblins varies!  
Nay would not Charon yield to Cerberus,  
But catched the Dog, and cut his head off thus:  
Pluto raged, and juno pleased with ire,  
Sought all about, but could not find the fire:  
But being found, well pleased, and in a spite  
They slept at Acheron, and wak● all night:  
Where I let pass to tell their mad bravadoes,  
Their meat was toasted cheese and carbonadoes.  
Thousands of Monsters more besides there be  
Which I fast hoodwinked, at that time did see;  
And in a word to shut up this discourse,  
A Rudg-gowns ribs are good to spur a horse.   

A mess of Nonsense.  

Like to the tone of unspoken speeches,  
Or like a Lobster clad in logic breeches,  
Or like the grey freeze of a crimson cat,  
Or like a Mooncalf in a slipshooe-hat,  
Or like a shadow when the Sun is gone,  
Or like a thought that ne'er was thought upon:  
Even such is man, who never was begotten,  
Until his children were both dead and rotten.   

Like to the fiery touchstone of a Cabbage,  
Or like a Crablouse with his bag and baggage,  
Or like th'abortive issue of a Fizle,  
Or the bag-pudding of a Ploughman's whistle,  
Or like the foursquare circle of a ring,  
Or like the singing of hay down a ding;  
Even such is man, who breathless, without doubt,  
Spoke to small purpose when his tongue was out.   

Like to the green fresh fading Rose,  
Or like to Rhyme or Verse that runs in prose,  
Or like the Humbles of a Tinderbox,  
Or like a man that's sound, yet hath the Pox,  
Or like a Hobnail coined in single pence,  
Or like the present preterperfect tense:  
Even such is man who died, and then did laugh  
To see such strong lines writ on's Epitaph.    

An Encomium.  
I sing the praises of a Fart;  
That I may do't by rules of Art,  
I will invoke no Deity  
But buttered Pease & Furmity,  
And think their help sufficient  
To fit and furnish my intent.  
For sure I must not use high strains,  
For fear it bluster out in grains:  
When Virgil's Gnat, and Ovid's Flea,  
And Homer's Frogs strive for the day  
There is no reason in my mind,  
That a brave Fart should come behind;  
Since that you may it parallel  
With any thing that doth excel:  
Music is but a Fart that's sent  
From the guts of an Instrument:  
The Scholar but farts, when he gains  
Learning with cracking of his brains.  
And when he has spent much pain and oil,  
Thomas and Dun to reconcile;  
And to learn the abstracting Art,  
What does he get by'●? not a fart.  
The Soldier makes his foes to run  
With but the farting of a Gun;  
That's if he make the bullet whistle,  
Else 'tis no better than a Fizle:  
And if withal the wind do stir up  
Rain, 'tis but a Fart in Syrup.  
They are but Farts, the words we say,  
Words are but wind, and so are they.  
Applause is but a Fart, the crude  
Blast of the fickle multitude.  
Five boats that lie the Thames about,  
Be but farts several Docks let out.  
Some of our projects were, I think,  
But politic farts, foh how they stink!  
As soon as born, they by and by,  
Fart-like but only breath, and die.  
Farts are as good as Land, for both  
We hold in tail, and let them both:  
Only the difference here is, that  
Farts are let at a lower rate.  
I'll no say more, for this is right,  
That for my Guts I cannot write,  
Though I should study all my days,  
Rhymes that are worth the thing I praise.  
What I have said, take in good part,  
If not, I do not care a fart.   

The Drunken Humours.  

 
One here is bend to quarrel, and he will  
(If not prevented) this his fellow kill:  
He fume●, and frets, and rages; in whose face  
Nothing but death and horror taketh place.  
But being parted, another's odd jugg, or two,  
Makes them all friends again with small ado●.   

Another he makes deaf your ears to hear  
The vain tautologies he doth declare;  
That, had you as many ear● as Argus eyes;  
He'd make them weary all with tales, and lies:  
And at the period of each idle fable,  
He gives the onset to out-laugh the Table.   

One he fits drinking health to such a friend,  
Then to his Mistress he a health doth send:  
This public Captain● health he next doth mean,  
And then in private to some nasty Que●n;  
Nothing but health● of love is his pretence,  
Till he himself hath lost both health and sense.   

To make the number up amongst the crew,  
Another being o're-filed, begins to spew  
Worse than the brutish beast; (O fie upon it!)  
It is a qualm forsooth doth cause him vomit.  
So that his stomach being overpress,  
He must disgorge it, o'er he can have rest.   

Here sits one straining of his drunken throat  
Beyond all reason, yet far short of note:  
sing is his delight, than hoops and hallows,  
Making a Garboil worse than Vulcan's bellows.  
Now for a Counter-tenor he takes place,  
But straining that too high, fall● to a base.  
Then screws his mouth an inch beyond his form,  
To triple it, just like a Gelders-horne:  
He's all for singing, and he hates to chide,  
Till blithfull Bacchus' cause his tongue be tie.   

One like an Ape shows many tricks and toys,  
To leap, and dance, and sing with rueful noise;  
O'er the form skips, then cross-legged sits  
Upon the Table, in his apish fits.  
From house to house he rambles in such sort,  
That no Baboon could make you better sport:  
He pincheth one, another with his wand  
He thrusts, or striketh, or else with his hand:  
P●ss●s the room, and as he sleeping lies,  
Waters his Couch (not with repenting eyes.)   

A seaventh, he sits mute, as if his tongue  
Had never learned no other word but mum;  
And with his mouth he maketh mops and mews,  
Just like an Ape his face in form he screws:  
Then nods with hum, and hah; but not one word  
His tongue-tied foolish silence can afford.  
To note his gesture, and his snorting after,  
'Twould make a Horse break all his girts with laughter  
But questionless he'd speak more were he able,  
Which you shall hear, having well slept at table.   

Sir reverence, your stomaches do prepare  
Against some word, or deed, ill-sent doth bear.  
So this most sordid beast being drunk, doth miss  
The Chamber-pot, and in his hose doth piss.  
Nay, smell but near him, you perhaps may find,  
Not only pissed before, but— behind;  
Each company loathes him, holding of their nose,  
Scorning, and pointing at his filthy hose:  
As no condition of a Drunkard's good,  
So this smells worst of all the loathsome brood.    

The Post of the Sign.  

Though it may seem rude  
For me to intrude,  
With these my Bears by chance-a;  
'Twere sport for a King,  
If they could sing  
As well as they can dance-a.   

Then to put you out  
Of fear or doubt,  
He came from St. Katharine-a.  
These dancing three,  
By the help of me,  
Who am the post of the Signe-a.   

We sell good ware,  
And we need not care,  
Though Court and Country knew it;  
Our Ale's o'th' best:  
And each good guest  
Prays for their souls that brew it.   

For any Alehouse,  
We care not a Louse,  
Nor Tavern in all the Towna;  
Nor the Vintry Cranes,  
Nor St. Clement Dones,  
Nor the Devil can put us downa.   

Who has once there been,  
Comes hither again,  
The liquor is so mighty.  
Beer strong and stale,  
And so is our Ale;  
And it burns like Aquavitae.   

To a stranger there,  
If any appear,  
Where never before he has been;  
We show th'Iron gate,  
The wheel of St. Kate,  
And the place where they first fell in.   

The wives of Wapping,  
They trudge to our tapping,  
And still our Ale desire;  
And there sit and drink,  
Till they spew and stink,  
And often piss out the fire.   

From morning to night,  
And about to daylight,  
They sit and never grudge it;  
Till the Fishwives join  
Their single coin,  
And the Tinker pawns his budget.   

If their brains be not well,  
Or bladders do swell,  
To ease them of their burden;  
My Lady will come  
With a bowl and a broom,  
And their handmaid with a Jourden.   

From Court we invite,  
Lord, Lady, and Knight,  
Squire, Gentleman, Yeoman, and Groom,  
And all our stiff drinkers,  
Smiths, Porters, and Tinkers,  
And the Beggars shall give ye room.   

If you give not credit,  
Then take you the verdict,  
Or a guest that came from St. H●llow●;  
And you then will swear,  
The Man has been there,  
By his story now that follows.    

A Ballad.  
A Discourse between two Countrymen.  

I Tell thee Dick where I have been,  
Where I the rarest things have seen;  
Oh things beyond compare!  
Such sights again cannot be found  
In any place on English ground,  
Be it at Wake or Fair.   

At Charingcross, hard by the way  
Where we (thou knowst) do sell our H●y,  
There is a House with stairss;  
And there did I see coming down  
Such folk as are not in our Town,  
Forty at lest in pairs.   

Amongst the rest, on p●st'lent fine,  
(His beard no bigger though than thine)  
Walked on before the rest:  
Our Landlord looks like nothing to him:  
The King (God bless him) 'twould undo him  
Should he go still to dressed.   

At Course-a-Park, without all doubt,  
He should have first been taken out  
By all the maid● 〈◊〉 Town:  
Though Iusty Roger there had been,  
Or little George upon the Green,  
Or Vincent of the Crown.   

But wot you what? the youth was going  
To make an end of all his wooing;  
The Parson for him sta●d:  
Yet by his leave (for all his ha●t)  
He did not so much wish all past  
(Perchance) as did the Maid.   

The Maid (and thereby hangs a tale)  
For such a Maid no Widson-Ale  
Could ever yet produce:  
No grape that's kindly ripe, could be  
So round, so plump, so soft as she,  
Nor half so full of juice.   

Her finger was so small, the Ring  
Would not stay on which he did bring,  
It was too wide a peck:  
And to say truth (for out it must)  
It looked like the great Collar (just)  
About our young Colt's neck.   

Her feet beneath her petticoat,  
Like little mice stole in and out,  
As if they feared the light:  
But Dick she dances such a way I  
No Sun upon an Easter day  
Is half so fine a sight.   

He would have kissed her once or twice,  
But she would not, she was so nice  
She would not do'●●n sight,  
And then she looked as who would say  
I will do what I list to day;  
And you shall do't at night.   

Her cheeks so rare a white was on,  
No D●zy make comparison  
(Who sees them is undone)  
For streaks of red were mingled there,  
Such as are on a Katherine Pear,  
The side that's next the Sun.)   

Her lips were red, and one was thin  
Compared to Heat was next her chin;  
(Some Bee had stung it newly)  
But (Dick) her eyes so guard her face,  
I durst no more upon them gaze,  
Then on the Sun in july.   

Her mouth so small when she does speak,  
Thou'dst swear her teeth her words did break,  
That they might passage get,  
But she so handled still the matter,  
They came as good as ours, or better,  
And are not spent 〈◊〉 whit.   

If wishing should be any sin  
The Parson himself had guilty been,  
(She looked that day so purely)  
And did the youth so oft the feat  
At night, as some did in conceit,  
It would have spoiled him surely.   

Passion oh me! how I run on!  
There's that that would be thought upon,  
(I trow) besides the Bride.  
The business of the kitchen's great,  
For it is fit that men should eat;  
Nor was it there denied.   

Just in the nick the Cook knocked thrice,  
And all the Waiters in a trice  
His summons did obey,  
Each Servingman with dish in hand,  
Marched boldly up like our Trained band,  
Presented and away.   

When all the mea● was on the Table,  
What man of knife, or teeth, was able  
To stay to be entreated?  
And this the very reason was  
Before the Parson could say Grace,  
The company was seated.   

Now hats fly off, and youths carouse;  
Healths first go round, and then the house,  
The Brides came thick and thick;  
And when 'twas named another's health,  
Perhaps he made it here by stealth;  
(And who could help it Dick?)   

O'th' sudden up they rise and dance;  
Then sit again, and sigh, and glance:  
Then dance again and kiss:  
Thus several ways the time did pass,  
Whilst every woman wished her place,  
And every man wished his.   

By this time all were stolen aside,  
To council and undress the Bride;  
But that he must not know:  
But 'twas thought he guest her mind,  
And did not mean to stay behind  
Above an hour or so.   

When in he came (Dick) there she lay  
Like new-fallen snow melting away,  
('Twas time I trow to part)  
Kisses were now the only stay,  
Which soon she gave, as who would say,  
God B'w'y '! with all my heart.   

But just as Heavens would have to cross it,  
In came the Bridemaids with the Posset:  
The Bridegroom eat in spite;  
For had he le●● the women to't  
It would have cost two hours to do't,  
Which were too much that night.   

At length the Candle's out, and now,  
All that they had not done, they do:  
What that i●, who can tell?  
But I believe it was no more  
Than thou and I have done before  
With Bridget, and with Nell.    

The Good Fellow.  
When shall we meet again to have a taste  
Of that transcendent Ale we drank of last?  
What wild ingredient did the woman chose  
To make her drink withal? it made me lose  
My wit, before I quenched my thirst; there came  
Such whimsies in my brain, and such a flame  
Of fiery drunkenness had singed my nose,  
My beard shrunk in for fear; there were of those  
That took me for a Comet, some afar  
Distant remote, thought me a blazing star;  
The earth me thought, just as it was, it went  
Round in a wheeling course of merriment.  
My head was ever drooping, and my nose  
Offering to be a suitor to my toes.  
My pock-hole face, they say, appeared to some,  
Just like a dry and burning Honeycomb:  
My tongue did swim in Ale, and joyed to boast  
Itself a greater Seaman than the toast.  
My mouth was grown awry, as if it were  
Labouring to reach the whisper in mine ear.  
My guts were mines of sulphur, and my se●  
Of parched teeth, struck fire as they met.  
Nay, when I pissed, my Urine was so hot,  
It burned a hole quite through the Chamber-pot:  
Each Brewer that I met, I kissed, and made  
Suit to be bound apprentice to the Trade:  
One did approve the motion, when he saw,  
That my own legs could my Indentures draw.  
Well Sir, I grew stark mad, as you may see  
By this adventure upon Poetry.  
You easily may guess, I am not quite  
Grown sober yet, by these weak lines I write:  
Only I do't for this, to let you see,  
whosoever paid for the Ale, I'm sured paid me.   

Canto, In the praise of Sack.  

Listen all I pray,  
To the words I have to say,  
In memory sure insert 'em:  
Rich Wines do us raise  
To the honour of Bays,  
Quem non fecere disertum?   

Of all the juice,  
Which the Gods produce,  
Sack shall be preferred before them;  
'Tis Sack that shall  
Create us all,  
Mars, Bacchus, Apollo, virorum.   

We abandon all Ale,  
And Beer that is stale,  
Rosa-solis, and damnable hum:  
But we will rack  
In the praise of Sack,  
'Gainst Omne quod exit in 'em.   

This is the wine,  
Which in former time,  
Each wise one of the Magis  
Was wont to carouse  
In a frolic blouse.  
Recubans sub tegmine fagi.   

Let the hop be their bane,  
And a rope be their shame  
Let the gout and colic pin 〈◊〉  
That offer to shrink,  
In taking their drink,  
Seu Graecum, sive Latinum.   

Let the glass go round,  
Let the quart-pot sound,  
Let each one do as he's done do:  
Avaunt ye that hug  
The abominable Jugge,  
Amongst us Heteroclita sunto.   

There's no such disease,  
As he that doth please  
His palate with Beer for to shame us:  
'Tis Sack makes us sing,  
hay down a down ding,  
Musa paulo majora canamus.   

He is either mute,  
Or doth poorly dispute,  
That drinks aught else but wine O,  
The more wine a man drinks,  
Like a subtle Sphinx  
Tantum valet ille loquendo.   

'Tis true, our souls,  
By the lousy bowls  
Of Beer that doth nought but swill us,  
Do go into swine,  
(Pythagoras 'tis thine)  
Nam vos mutastis & illos.   

When I've Sack in my brain,  
I'm in a merry vain,  
And this to me a bliss is:  
Him that is wise,  
I can justly despise:  
Mecum confertur Ulysses?   

How it cheers the brains,  
How it warms the veins,  
How against all crosses it arms us!  
How it makes him that's poor,  
Courageously roar,  
Et mutatas dicere formas.   

Give me the boy,  
My delight and my joy,  
To my tantum that drinks his tale:  
By Sack he that waxes  
In our Syntaxes.  
Est verbum personale.   

Art thou weak or lame,  
Or thy wits to blame?  
Call for Sack, and thou shalt have it,  
'Twill make thee rise,  
And be very wise,  
Cui vim natura negavit.   

We have frolic rounds,  
We have merry go downs,  
Yet nothing 〈◊〉 done at random,  
For when we are to pay,  
We club and away,  
Id est commune notandum.   

The blades that want cash,  
Have credit for crash,  
They'll have Sack whatever it cost 'em,  
They do not pay,  
Till another day,  
Manet alta ment repostum.   

Who ne'er fails to drink,  
All clear from the brink,  
With a smooth and even swallow,  
I'll offer at his shrine,  
And call it divin●  
Et erit mihi magnus Apollo.   

He that drinks still,  
And never hath his fill,  
Hath a passage like a Conduit,  
The Sack doth inspire,  
In rapture and fire,  
Sic aether aethera fundit.   

When you merrily quaff,  
If any do off,  
And then from you needs will pass the,  
Give their nose a twitch,  
And kick them in the britch,  
Non componuntur ab ass.   

I have told you plain,  
And tell you again,  
Be he furious as Orlando,  
He is an ass,  
That from hence doth pass,  
Nisi bibit ad ostia stando.    

The virtue of Sack.  
Fetch me Ben johnsons' scull, and fill't with Sack,  
Rich as the same he drank, when the whole pack  
Of jolly sisters pledged, and did agree,  
It was no sin to be as drunk as he:  
If there be any weakness in the wine,  
There's virtue in the Cup to make't divine;  
This muddy drench of Ale does taste too much  
Of earth, the Malt retains a scurvy touch  
Of the dull hand that sows it; and I fear  
There's heresy in hops; give Blockheads beer,  
And silly Ignoramu●, such as think  
There's Powder-treason in all Spanish drink,  
Call Sack an Idol; we will kiss the Cup,  
For fear the Conventickle be blown up  
With superstition; away with Brewhouse alm●,  
Whose best mirth is six shillings Beer, & qualms.  
Let me rejoice in sprightly Sack, that can  
Create a brain even in an empty pan.  
Canary! it's thou that dost inspire  
And actuate the soul with heavenly fire.  
Thou that sublim'st the Genius-making wit,  
Scorn earth, and such as love, or live by it.  
Thou mak'st us Lords of Regions large and fair,  
Whilst our conceits build Castles in the air:  
Since fire, earth, air, thus thy inferiors be,  
Henceforth I'll know no element but thee:  
Thou precious Elixir of all Grapes,  
Welcome by thee our Muse begins her 'scapes,  
Such is the worth of Sack; I am (me thinks)  
In the Exchequer now, hark how it chinks,  
And do esteem my venerable self  
As brave a fellow, as if all the pelf  
Were sure mine own; and I have thought a way  
Already how to spend it; I would pay  
No debts, but fairly empty every trunk;  
And change the gold for Sack to keep me drunk;  
And so by consequence till rich Spain's wine  
Being in my crown, the Indieses too were mine:  
And when my brains are once afoot (heaven bless us!)  
I think myself a better man than Croesus.  
And now I do conceit myself a Judge▪  
And coughing laugh to see my Clients trudge  
After my Lordship's Coach unto the Hall  
For Justice, and am full of Law withal,  
And do become the Bench as well as he  
That fled long since for want of honesty:  
But I'll be judge no longer, though in jest,  
For fear I should be talked with like the rest,  
When I am sober; who can choose but think  
Me wise, that am so wary in my drink?  
Oh admirable Sack! here's dainty sport,  
I am come back from Westminster to Court;  
And am grown young again; my Ptisick now  
Hath left me, and my Judge● graver brow  
Is smoothed; and I turned amorous as May,  
When she invites young lovers forth to play  
Upon her flowery bosom: I could win  
A Vestal now, or tempt a Queen to sin.  
Oh for a score of Queens! you'd laugh to see,  
How they would strive which first should ravish me:  
Three Goddesses were nothing: Sack has ●ipt  
My tongue with charms like those which Paris sipped  
From Venus, when she taught him how to kiss  
Fair Helen, and invite a fairer bliss:  
Mine is Canary-Rhetorick, that alone  
Would turn Diana to a burning stone,  
Stone with amazement, burning with love's fire;  
Hard to the touch, but short in her desire.  
Inestimable Sack! thou mak'st us rich,  
Wise, amorous, any thing; I have an itch  
To t'other cup, and that perchance will make  
Me valiant too, and quarrel for thy sake.  
If I be once inflamed against thy foe●  
That would preach down thy worth in smal-beer prose,  
I shall do miracles as bad, or worse,  
As he that gave the King an hundred Horse:  
Tother odd Cup, and I shall be prepared  
To snatch at Stars, and pluck down a reward  
With mine own hands from jove upon their backs  
That are, or Charles his enemies, or Sacks:  
Let it be full, if I do chance to spill  
Over my Standish by the way, I will  
Dipping in this diviner Ink, my pen,  
Write myself sober, and fall to't again.   

The Answer of Ale to the Challenge of Sack.  
COme, all you brave wights,  
That are dubbed Ale-knights  
Now set out yourselves in sight:  
And let them that crack  
In the praises of Sack,  
Know Malt is of much might.  
Though Sack they define  
To holy divine,  
Yet it is but natural liquor:  
Ale hath for its part  
An addition of art,  
To make it drink thinner or thicker.  
Sacks fiery sum  
Doth waste and consume  
Mens humidum radical;  
It scaldeth their livers,  
It breeds burning fevers,  
Proves vinum venenum real.  
But History gathers,  
From aged forefathers,  
That Ale's the true liquor of life:  
Men lived long in health,  
And preserved their wealth,  
Whilst Barley-broth only was rife.  
Sack quickly ascends,  
And suddenly ends  
What company came for at first:  
And that which yet worse is,  
It empties men's purses  
Before it half quencheth their thirst.  
Ale is not so costly,  
Although that the most lie  
Too long by the Oil of Barley,  
Yet may they part late  
At a reasonable rate,  
Though they came in the morning early.  
Sack makes men from words  
Fall to drawing of swords,  
And quarrelling endeth their quaffing;  
Whilst dagger-ale barrels  
Bear off many quarrels,  
And often turn chiding to laughing.  
Sack's drink for our Masters:  
A●l may be Ale-tasters▪  
Good things the more common the better.  
Sack's but single broth:  
Ale's meat, drink, and cloth,  
Say they that know never a letter.  
But not to entangle  
Old friends till they wrangle,  
And quarrel for other men's pleasure;  
Let Ale keep his place,  
And let Sack have his grace,  
So that neither exceed the due measure.   

The Triumph of Tobacco over Sack and Ale.  

NAy, soft, by your leaves,  
Tobacco bereaves  
You both of the Garland: forbear it:  
You are two to one,  
Yet Tobacco alone  
Is like both to win it, and wear it.  
Though many men crack,  
Some of Ale, some of Sack,  
And think they have reason to do it;  
Tobacco hath more,  
That will never give o'er  
The honour they do unto it.  
Tobacco engages  
Both sexes, all ages,  
The poor as well as the wealthy,  
From the Court to the Cottage,  
From childhood to dotage,  
Both those that are sick and the healthy.  
It plainly appears  
That in a few years'  
Tobacco more custom hath gained,  
Then Sack, or then Ale,  
Though the double the tale  
Of the times, wherein they have reigned.  
And worthily too,  
For what they undo  
Tobacco doth help to regain,  
On ●airer conditions,  
Then many Physicians,  
Puts an end to much grief and pain.  
It helpeth digestion,  
Of that there's no question,  
The gout, and the toothache, it easeth:  
Be it early, or late,  
'Tis never out of date,  
He may safely take it that pleaseth.  
Tobacco prevents  
Infection by scents,  
That hurt the brain, and are heady,  
An Antidote is,  
Before you're amiss,  
As well as an after remedy.  
The cold it doth heat,  
Cools them that do sweat,  
And them that are fat maketh lean:  
The hungry doth feed,  
And, if there be need,  
Spent spirits restoreth again.  
Tobacco infused  
May safely be used  
For purging, and killing of louse:  
Not so much as the ashes  
But heals cuts and slashes,  
And that out of hand, in a trice.  
The Poets of old,  
Many fables have told,  
Of the Gods and their Symposia:  
But Tobacco alone,  
Had they known it, had gone  
For their Nectar and Ambrosia.  
It is not the smack  
Of Ale, or of Sack,  
That can with Tobacco compare:  
For taste, and for smell,  
It bears away the bell  
From them both where ever they are.  
For all their bravado,  
It is Trinidado  
That both their noses will wipe  
Of the praises they desire,  
Unless they conspire  
To sing to the tune of his pipe.   

Turpe est difficiles habere nug●s.    

A Farewell to Sack.  
FArewell thou thing, time past so true and dear  
To me, as blood to life, and spirit, and near,  
Nay thou more near than kindred, friend, or wife,  
Male to the female, soul to the body, life  
To quick action, or the warm soft side  
Of the yet chaste, and undefiled Bride.  
These and a thousand more could never be  
More near, more dear, than thou wert once to me.  
'Tis thou above, that with thy mystic fallen  
Workest more than Wisdom, Art, or Nature can;  
To raise the holy madness, and awake  
The frost bound-blood and spirits, and to make  
Them frantic with thy raptures, stretching through  
The soul● like lightning, & as active too.  
But why, why do I longer gaze upon  
Thee, with the eye of admiration,  
When I must leave thee, and enforced must say,  
To all thy witching beauties, Go away?  
And if thy whimpering looks do ask me, why?  
Know then, 'tis Nature biddeth thee hence, not I;  
'Tis her erroneous self hath formed my brain,  
Uncapable of such a Sovereign,  
As is thy powerful self; I prithee draw in  
Thy gazing fires, lest at their sight the sin  
Of fierce Idolatry shoot into me, and  
I turn Apostate to the strict command  
Of Nature; bid me now farewell, or smile  
More ugly, lest thy tempting looks beguile  
My vows pronounced in zeal, 〈◊〉 thus much shows thee,  
That I have sworn, but by thy looks to know thee  
Let others drink thee boldly, and desire  
Thee, and their lips espoused, while I admire  
And love, but yet not taste thee: let my Muse  
Fail of thy former helps, and only use  
Her inadulterate strength, what's done by me,  
Shall smell hereafter of the Lamp, not thee.   

A fit of Rhyme against Rhyme.  
Rhyme the rack of finest wits,  
That expresseth but by fit●  
True conceit.  
Spoiling senses of their treasure,  
Cozening judgement with a measure,  
But false weight.  
Wresting words from their true calling,  
Propping Verse for fear of falling  
To the ground.  
Jointing syllables, drowning letters,  
F●st●ing vowels, as with fetter●  
They were bound.  
Soon as lazy thou were't known,  
All good Poetry hence was flown,  
And art banished.  
For a thousand years together,  
All Parnassus green did wither.  
And wit vanished.  
Pegasus did fly away,  
At the wells no Muse did stay,  
But bewailed.  
So to see the fountain dry,  
And Apollo's Music die;  
All light failed!  
Starveling Rhymes did fill the stage,  
Not a Poet in an age  
Worth crowning.  
Not a work deserving Bays,  
Nor a l●ne deserving praise;  
Pallas frowning.  
Greek was free from Rhymes infection,  
Happy Greek by this protection  
Was not spoilt.  
Whilst the Latin, Queen of Tongues,  
Is not free from Rhymes wrongs;  
But 〈◊〉 soiled.  
Scarce the hill again doth flourish,  
Scarce the world a wit doth nourish,  
To restore,  
Phoebus to his Crown again;  
And the Muses to their brain,  
As before.  
Vulgar languages that want  
Words, and sweetness, and be scant  
Of true measure,  
Tyrant Rhyme hath so abused,  
That they long since have refused  
Other ceasure.  
He that first invented thee,  
May his joints tormented be,  
Cramped for ever.  
Still may syllables join with time,  
Still may reason war with rhyme,  
Resting never.  
May his sense when it would meet,  
The cold ●umor in his feet,  
Grow unsounder.  
And his title be long fool,  
That in rearing such a School,  
Was the Founder.   

A Litany.  

From a proud Woodcock, and a peevish wife,  
A pointless Needle, and a broken Knife,  
From lying in a Lady's lap,  
Like a great fool that longs for pap,  
And from the fruit of the three corner'd tree,  
Virtue and goodness still deliver me.   

From a conspiracy of wicked knaves,  
A knot of villains, and a crew of slaves,  
From laying plots for to abuse a friend,  
From working humours to a wicked end,  
And from the wood where Wolves and Foxes be,  
Virtue and goodness still deliver me.   

From resty Bacon, and ill roasted E●les,  
And from a madding wit that runs on wheels,  
A vapouring humour, and a beetle head,  
A smoky chimney, and a lousy bed,  
A blow upon the elbow and the knee,  
From each of these, goodness deliver me.   

From setting virtue at too low a price,  
From losing too much coin at Cards and Dice.  
From surety-ship, and from an empty purse,  
Or any thing that may be 〈◊〉 worse;  
From all such ill, wherein no good can be,  
Virtue and goodness still deliver me.   

From a fool, and serious toys,  
From a Lawyer three parts noise;  
From impertinence like a Drum  
Beat at dinner in his room,  
From a tongue without a file,  
Heaps of Phrases and no 〈◊〉,  
From a Fiddler out of tune,  
As the Cuckoo is in june.  
From a Lady that doth breath  
Worse above, then underneath.  
From the bristles of a Hog,  
Or the ring-worm in a Dog:  
From the courtship of a briar,  
Or St. Anthony's old fire.  
From the mercy of some Jailers,  
From the long bills of all Tailors,  
From Parasites that will stroke us,  
From morsels that will choke us,  
From all such as purses cut,  
From a filthy dirty slut,  
From Canters and great eaters,  
From Patentees and Cheaters,  
From men with reason tainted,  
From women which are painted,  
From all far-fetched new fangles,  
From him that ever wrangles,  
From rotten Cheese, and addle Eggs,  
From broken shine, and gouty Legs,  
From a Pudding hath no end,  
From bad men that never mend,  
From the Counter or the Fleet,  
From doing penance in a sheet,  
From Jesuits, Monk●, and Friars,  
From hypocrites, knaves, and liars,  
From Rome's Pardons, Bulls, and Masses,  
From Bug-bears, and broken Glasses,  
From Spanish Pensions and their spies,  
From weeping Cheese with Argus eyes,  
From foreign foes invasions,  
From Papistical persuasions,  
From private gain, by public loss,  
From coming home by weeping cross,  
From all these I say again,  
Heaven deliver me, Amen.    

The Gypsies. The Captain sings.  

FRom the famous Peake of Derby,  
And the Devills-arse there hard-by,  
Where we yearly keep our Musters,  
Thus the Egyptians throng in clusters.   

Be not frighted with our fashion,  
Though we seem a tattered Nation;  
We account our rags, our riches,  
So our Tricks exceed our stitches.   

Give us Bacon, rinds of walnuts,  
Shells of C●ckels, and of small Nuts;  
Ribbons, b●ll●, and saffrand linen,  
All the world is ours to win in.   

Knacks we have that will delight you,  
'Slight of hand that will invite you.  
To endure ou● tawny faces  
Quit your places, and not cause you cut your laces.   

All your fortunes we can tell ye,  
Be they for the back or belly;  
In the Moods too and the Tenses,  
That may fit your fine five senses.   

Draw but then your gloves we pray you,  
And ●it still, we will not fray you;  
For though we be here at Burley,  
we'd be loath to make a hurley.    

Another sings.  
STay my sweet Singer,  
●he touch of thy finger,  
A 〈◊〉 and linger;  
For me that am bringer  
Of bound to the border,  
The rule and Recorder,  
And mouth of the order,  
As Pri●t of the Game,  
And Prelate of the same.  
There's a Gentry Cove here,  
Is the top of the shire,  
Of the Beaver Ken,  
A man among men;  
You need not to fear,  
I have an eye, and an ear  
That turns here and there,  
To look to our gear.  
Some say that there be,  
One or two, if not three,  
That are greater than he.  
And for the Rome-Mor●s,  
I know by their Ports  
And their jolly resorts  
They are of the sorts  
That love the true sports  
Of King Ptolomeus,  
Or great Coriphaeus,  
And Queen Cleopatra,  
The Gypsies grand Matra.  
Then if we shall shark it,  
Here Fair is, and Market.  
Leave Pig Py and Goose,  
And play fast and loose,  
A short cut and long,  
Some inch of a Song,  
Pythagoras' lot,  
Drawn out of a pot;  
With what says Alkindus  
And Pharaotes Indus,  
john de Indagine  
With all their Pagine,  
Of faces and Palmistry,  
And this is All mystery.  
Lay by your Wimbles,  
Your boring for Thimbles,  
Or using your nimbles,  
In diving the Pockets,  
And sounding the sock●ts  
Of Simper the Cocke●s;  
Or angling the purses,  
Of such as will curse us;  
But in the strict duel  
Be merry, and cruel,  
Strike fair at some Jewel  
That mine may accrue well  
For that is the fuel,  
To make the Town brew well,  
And the Pot wring well,  
And the brain sing well,  
Which we may bring well  
About by a string well,  
And do the ●hing well.  
It is but a strain  
Of true legerdemain,  
Once twice and again.  
Or what will you say now?  
If with our fine play now,  
Our knack and our dances,  
We work on the Fancies  
Of some of your Nancies.  
These trinkets, and tripsies▪  
And make 'em turn Gypsies.  
Here's no Justice Lippus  
Will seek for to nip us,  
In Cramp-ring or Cippus,  
And then for to strip us,  
And after to whip us.  
His justice to vary,  
While here we do tarry  
But be wise, and wary  
And we may both carry  
The Kate and the Mary,  
And all the bright ae'ry.  
Away to the Quarry.  
Or dared I go further  
In method and order,  
There's a Purse and a Seal,  
I have a great mind to steal.  
That when our tricks are done,  
We might seal our own pardon;  
All this we may do,  
And a great deal more too,  
If our brave Ptolomee,  
Will but say follow me.   

To those that would be Gypsies too.  
FRiends not to refel ye,  
Or any way quell ye,  
To buy or to ●ell ye,  
I only must tell ye,  
Ye aim at a Mystery  
Worthy a History;  
There's much to be done,  
Ere you can be a Son,  
Or brother of the Moon.  
'Tis not so soon  
Acquired as desired.  
You must be Ben-bousie,  
And sleepy and drowsy,  
And lazy, and lousy,  
Before ye can rouse ye,  
In shape that arowse ye.  
And then you may stalk  
The Gypsies walk;  
To the Coops and the Pens.  
And bring in the Hens,  
Though the Cock be sullen  
For loss of the Pullen:  
Take Turkey, or Capon,  
And Gammons of Bacon,  
Let nought be forsaken;  
We'll let you go loose  
Like a Fox to a Goose,  
And show you the sty  
Where the little Pigs lie;  
Whence if you can take  
One or two, and not wake  
The Sow in her dreams,  
But by the Moon beam●;  
So warily high,  
As neither do cry.  
You shall the next day  
Have licence to play  
At the hedge a flirt  
For a sheet or a shirt;  
If your hand be light,  
I'll show you the slight  
Of our Ptolemy's knot,  
It is, and 'tis not.  
To change your complexion  
With the noble confection  
Of walnuts and Hogs-grease,  
Better than Dogs-grease:  
And to milk the kine,  
Ere the milkmaid fine  
Hath opened her ●●ne.  
Or if you desire  
To spit, or fart fire,  
I'll teach you the knacks,  
Of eating of flax;  
And out of their noses,  
Draw ribbons and posies.  
And if you incline  
To a cup of good wine,  
When you sup or dine;  
If you chance it to lack,  
Be it Claret or Sack;  
I'll make this snout,  
To deal it about,  
Or this to run out,  
As it were from a spout.   

A Farewell to Folly.  
FArewell, ye gilded follies, pleasing troubles;  
Farewell, ye honoured rag●, ye crystal bubbles;  
Fame's but a hollow Echo; Gold, poor clay;  
Honour, the darling, but of one short day;  
Beauties chief Idol, but a damask skin;  
State, but a golden Prison to live in,  
And torture freeborn minds; embroidered trains,  
But goodly Pageants? proudly swelling veins,  
And blood alaled to greatness, is but loan,  
Inherited, not purchased, not our own.  
Fame, Riches, Honour, Beauty, State, Trains, Birth▪  
Are but the fading blessings of the Earth,  
I would be rich, but see man too unkind;  
Digs in the bowels of the richest Mine.  
I would be great, but yet the Sun doth still  
Level his beams against the rising hill.  
I would be fair, but see the Champion proud,  
The world's fair eye, oft setting in a cloud.  
I would be wise, but that the Fox I see  
Suspected guilty, when the Fox is free.  
I would be poor, but see the humble grass  
Trampled upon, by each unworthy ass.  
Rich, hated; wise, suspected; scorned if poor;  
Great, feared; fair, tempted; high, still envied more.  
Would the world then, adopt me for her heir;  
Would beauties Queen, entitle me the fair;  
Fame, speak me honours Minion; and could I  
With Indian-Angels, and a speaking eye,  
Command bare heads, bowed knees, strike Justice dumb,  
As well as blind and lame, and give a tongue  
To stones by Epitaphs; be called great Master;  
In the loose lines of every Poetaster;  
Could I be more, than any man that lives;  
Great, Wise, Rich, Fair, all in superlatives:  
Yet I these favours, would more free resign,  
Then ever fortune would have had them mine.  
I count one minute of my holy leisure,  
Beyond the mirth of all this earthly pleasure.  
Welcome pure thoughts, welcome ye carelee groves;  
These are my guests; this is the Court age loves.  
The winged people of the skies shall sing  
Me Anthems, by my sellers gentle spring.  
Divinity shall be my Looking-glass,  
Wherein I will adore sweet virtues face.  
Here dwells no heartless loves, no palefaced fears,  
No short joys purchased with eternal tears.  
Here will I sit and sigh my hot youth's folly;  
And learn to affect an holy Melancholy:  
And if contentment be a stranger, then  
I'll ne'er look for it but in heaven again.   

An Invitation to the Reader.  
HAving now fed thy youthful frencies, with these Juvenilian Fancies; let me invite thee (with myself) to sing Altiora peto. And then to meet with this thy noble resolution; I would commend to thy sharpest view and serious consideration; The Sweet Celestial sacred Poems by Mr. Henry Vaughan, entitled Silex Scintillans.  
There plumes from Angels wings, he'll lend thee,  
Which every day to heaven will send thee.   

(Hear him thus invite thee home.)  
If thou wouldst thither, linger not,  
Catch at the place,  
Tell youth, and beauty, they must rot,  
They're but a Case:  
Lose, parcell'd hearts will freeze; the Sun  
With scattered locks  
Scarce warms, but by contraction  
Can heat Rocks;  
Call in thy powers; run, and reach  
Home with the light;  
Be there, before the shadows stretch,  
And span up nighs;  
Follow the Cry no more: there is  
An ancient way  
All strewed with flowers and happiness,  
And fresh as May;  
There turn, and turn no more; let wits,  
Smile at fair eyes,  
Or lips; but who there weeping sits,  
Hath got the prize.   
FINIS. 1654.