More fooles yet | ||
A fellow all wit, or wit all.
I pray you giue attention and be mute,Here comes old Spunge the Barbor with his Lute:
Giue him his lap, and let him (gratis) feed,
And hee's your Fidler till his fingers bleed.
But harke you sir, he hath a wife I thinke,
True sir shee takes Tobacco, and will drincke
Carowses with a Dutchman while heele stand,
Will sweare with any ruffian in the land.
Will giue the lye to any Captaine too,
Then sheele be stab'd, sir what is that to you:
And liues as chast as Dyan for her eares.
For should shee (as heele tell you) tread awry,
Hee'd slit her nose for her impuritie:
But's tongue goes false, as any tongue may trip.
Thrice in afternoone he knew her slippe.
More fooles yet | ||