And he a double gelding prov'd indeed; That both alight, with blows and threats among, IIO. To A. S. Rich Chremes whilst he lives will nought bestow He thinks that for his life they seldome pray. III. On Clarret wine spilt. What's this that's spilt? 'tis clarret wine, "Tis well 'tis spilt, its fall sav'd mine. I12. On Women. Are women Saints ? no Saints, and yet no devils, Are women good? not good, but needfull evils, So angel like that devils you need not doubt, Such needfull evils, that few can be without. 113. Liber too wary to thrive. Liber is late set up and wanteth custome, Hee'l want himselfe, ere hee'l see him a debtor. 114. On Venus and Vulcan. I muse, why Venus hath such fiery holes, I thinke that Vulcan, once there blow'd his coales. 115. Sorte tua contentus, Bartus being bid to supper to a Lord, Was marshall'd at the lower end of the boord, The salt stands on the bord wouldst thou sit there? 116. Fervent perjuria furtum. Piso hath stoln a silver bole in jest, 117. Virescit vulnere Venus. Susan's well sped and weares a velvet hood, 118. On a rich country Gentleman. Of woods, of plaines, of hils and vales, I need no more I have no lesse. 119. In Octavium. Octavius lying at the point of death, Before I knew what might belong to war, I heard a voyce say souldiers you must love, I lost my wits to get my heart againe. 121. Most men mistaken. Good, bad, rich, poor, the foolish and the sage, Doe all cry out against the present age: Ignorance makes us thinke our young times good, Our elder dayes are better understood : Besides griefes past, we easily forget, Present displeasures make us sad or fret. Fine, neat, and curious misteris Butterfly, You, that wish all good huswives hang'd, for why, You were created angels pure and fayre, But since the first fell, tempting devills you are: 124. On a Bed-rid man. A bed-rid man before the judge was brought, 125. In procos. Who woes a wife, thinks wedded men do know, If Woe in wooers be, that women court, And Woe in woemen too, that courted be, 126. On Promises. My Mistrisse sweares shee'd leave all men for me, 127. On a barber. Suppose my Barber, when his razors nigh 128. On Durus. A friend of Durus comming on a day To visit him, finding the doores say nay; Being lock'd fast up, first knocks, and then doth Pause, As Lord have mercy on's had bin the cause; But missing it, he ask't a neighbour by When the rich Durus' doors were lock't, and why? At diner time, to lock your great man's gate. Durus' poore friend admir'd, and thought the door |