Priscus his love to Phillis more doth glow 288. In Quintum. Quintus is burnt, and may thereof be glad, 289. On a changeable Rayment. Know you why Lollus changeth every day, 290. On Guesse. Guesse cuts his shooes, and limping goes about To have men think he's troubled with the Gout. But 'tis no Gout (believe it) but hard beere, Whose acrimonious humour bites him here. 291. On Stale-Batch. For all night-sins with other wives unknown 292. To sir Guilty. Guilty, be wise; and though thou knowest the crim Luke that a man on horse-back met but late, Would simply seem thus to equivocate, And strong maintain 'gainst them, contend who dare 'Twas meerly but a Taylor and a Mare. 294. On Hugh. Hugh should have gone to Oxford th'other day, 295. On a Painted Madam. Men say y'are fair; and fair ye are, 'tis true, 296. On Barossa. Barossa boasts his pedigree, although He knows no letter of the Christ-Crosse row, 297. Experto credendum. How durst Capritius call his wedlock whore, 298. On Jack Cut-purse. Jack Cut-purse is, and hath been patient long, For hee's content to pocket up much wrong. 299. On Afer. Afer hath sold his land and bought a horse, 300. On Charismus. Thou hast compos'd a Book, which neither age, 301. Facilis descensus Averni. The way to hell is easie, th'other day, 302. Age and Youth. Admire not youth, despise not age, although Some young are grave, most old men children grow. 303. On Orus. Orus sold wine, and then tobacco, now He aqua-vitæ doth his friends allow. What e're he had was sold to save his life, And now turn'd Pander, he doth sell his wife. Sneape has a face so brittle, that it breaks 305. On Acerra. Tobacco hurts the brain Physitians say, 306. Empta nostra. Madam La Foy wears not those locks for nought, Who private lives, lives well, no wonder then, You doe absent you from the sight of men, For out of doors you ne'r by day appear, 308. A Foolish Querie. How rich a man is, all desire to know ; 309. On the King of Swedens Picture. Who but the half of this neat Picture drew, That it could ne're be fully done, well knew. 310. B. F. answer to a Thief bidding him stand. Fly villain hence, or by thy coat of steel, I'le make thy heart my brazen bullet feel, 311. Thiefs reply. Art thou great Ben? or the revived ghost Of famous Shakespeare ? or some drunken host? Dost think thy rimes shall daunt my soule with fear? Nay know base Slave, that I am one of those Can take a purse as well in verse as prose; * The fourth line in ed. 1641 runs thus: Since last you lost i'th pillory your eare. |