English

Of Torques.

Torques a Knight, and of indifferent liuing,
Is neyther free of house-keeping, nor giuing:
Yet stands he in the Debet booke vncrost:
Wonder not man, he keepes a whore to his cost.

Of Chrysogonus.

Chrysogonus each morning by his glasse,
Teacheth a wrinckled action to his face,
And with the same he runnes into the street,
Each one to put in feare that he doth meet:
I prythee tell me (gentle Chrysogone )
What needs a borrowed bad face to thine owne?

Of Arion.

Arions thoughts are growne so musicall,
That all his talke's of crotchets, and of quauers,
His very words to sembriefe time doe fall,
And blowing of his nose of musicke sauours:
Hee'le tell you of well fretting of a Lute,
Euen til you fret, and of the harmonie,
Is either in a still Cornet or Flute,
Of rests, and stops, and such like trumperie,
Yet loues he more, for all sweet musick sence,
His mistris belly, then these instruments.

Of Zeno.

Zeno would faine th'old widdow Æagle haue,
Trust me hee's wise, for shee is rich and braue:
But Zeno, Zeno , shee will none of you,
In my mind shee's the wiser of the two.

Of the same.

Pollio at length's fallne in my good conceit,
Not for his wanton face and curled haire,
Nor his fatte buttocke, nor that I delight
In his french Galliard, which is nothing rare,
Nor for that others thinke him to be so,
(For others credits cannot better me,)
But for he thinks himselfe a fine fellow,
For his owne state who better knowes then hee?

To Pollio.

Th'art a fine fellow trust me Pollio ,
And euery one reputes thee so to be,
Both for thy ingles face, and goodly show,
Of thyne apparraile and thy naperie:
Then, for thou pertly knowes to wagge thy head,
Like some old palsey-strucken vsurer,
Chiefely, for that this Christmas thou hast led
An vnthrifts life, (gramercy Creditor,)
But for this last thou must be faine to goe,
Into the country for a yeere or two.

Of Gnatho.

My Lord most court-like lyes in bed till noone,
Then, all high-stomackt riseth to his dinner,
Falls straight to Dice, before his meate be downe,
Or to disgest, walks to some femall sinner.
Perhaps fore-tyrde he gets him to a play,
Comes home to supper, and then falls to dice,
There his deuotion wakes till it be day,
And so to bed, where vntill noone he lies.
This is a Lords life, simple folke will sing.
A Lords life? what, to trot so foule a ring?

Of Fuscus.

When Fuscus first had taught his Muse to scold,
He gloried in her rugged vaine so much,
That euery one came to him, heare her should,
First Victor , then Cinna , nor did he grutch
To let both players, and artificers,
Deale with his darling, as if confident,
None of all these he did repute for Lechers,
Or thought her face would all such lusts preuent:
But how can he a bawdes surname refuse,
Who to all sorts thus prostitutes his Muse?

Of Sextilius.

Sextilius sigh'd, for Leuca let a fart,
Hath not the youth a meruailous kind hart?

To Clodius.

I prethee Clodius , tell me what's the reason,
Thou doost expect I should salute thee first,
I haue sized in Cambridge, and my friends a season
Some exhibition for me there disburst:
Since that, I haue beene in Goad his weekly role,
And beene acquaint with Mounsieur Littleton ,
I haue walkt in Poules, and duly din'd at noone,
And sometimes visited the dauncing schoole:
Then how art thou my better, that I should
Speake alwaies first, as I incroch faine would?