 | The Mastive, or Young-Whelpe of the Olde-Dogge |  |
Ad Conscium, Epilogus.
Now what sayes Conscius to these scuruy Rymes,Are they not basest most absurd abuses?
Hadst not bene better by a thousand times,
T'haue spent thy sixe-pence vpon other vses?
Come, th' art an Asse, nor canst by Approbation,
Say yet precisely where the Saddle wrings:
Onely doest feele by natures inclination,
The more a Horse is galld, the more hee flings.
Harke in thine Eare, if this thou thinkst disgrace,
Next time Ile ride thee through the Market-place.
| The Mastive, or Young-Whelpe of the Olde-Dogge | |