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To Arnus. Surfet.
Doest
aske with sundrie sicknesses,
why men are vexed so?
By diuers deintie dishes sure,
diseases diuers growe.
Our elders that one dishe did vse,
did healthfull still endure:
Then skant ten herbes in field were founde,
an hurte or sore to cure.
Now hilles, and woods, and seas are sought:
all places more, and lesse:
And eke we practise Magicke arte,
and suche like deuilishnesse.
And yet our soares excede our salues,
and needes it must be so:
For men will rather lose their liues,
then gluttonie forgoe.
 | Flovvers of Epigrammes |  |
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