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Satire 30

[I could allowe your suite; but doe you here?]

I could allowe your suite; but doe you here?
My creditt Sir: my reputation's deare,


What greater blott could to my Credit bee?
Then yeilde my loue to such a one as yee.
Againe you knowe your maister growes of late,
To haue a mar'les suspitious Ieolous pate.
H'immagins what has past: and John you knowe,
Wee haue too open been; twas longe of you.
Lett's charie bee: my deeds shall then approue,
That like to thee, none shall attaine my loue.