 | More fooles yet |  |
A conuertite.
Strangely addicted now is Brutus found,He doth suppose the world is at an end:
He will not drincke not ramble foote of ground,
Nor take a pipe neither with foe nor friend.
Hee meditates on heauen, no 'tis not so,
Another place he thinkes on which is lowe:
O'tis his purse which nere doth measure keepe,
He cannot reach a penny 'tis so deepe.
| More fooles yet | |