University of Virginia Library

Chap. XI.


59

[It matters not so much to weare the Horne]

It matters not so much to weare the Horne,
If that it might be free from others scorne.
Hornes haue no cure, but when thy selfe art sped,
To graffe those Hornes vpon anothers head.

60

[Woe to thee, Tarleton, that euer thou wert borne]

Woe to thee, Tarleton, that euer thou wert borne,
Thy Wife hath made thee a Cuckold, and thou
must weare the Horne,
What and if she hath? Am I a whit the worse?
She keeps me like a Gentleman with mony in my
Purse.

61

[O those faire starlike eyes of thine, one sayes]

O those faire starlike eyes of thine, one sayes,
When to my seeming she hath lookt nine wayes.
And that sweet breath, when I thinke out upon it
It would blast a flowre, if she breathed on it.
Withers in his Satyrs.