 | The Melancholie Knight |  |
31
To Fortune.
Thou pur-blinde puppet for a Trads-mans staule,Thou limping Ladie of the Hospitall;
Empresse of Epicures and belly-gods,
With whom I vowe to liue and die at ods;
Thou mole-ey'd, owle-ey'd, Countess for a spittle,
That giues to some too much, to mee too little,
Thou whirly-gigge, and rats bane of my life,
Which by thy wheele dost seeme some wheel-wrights wife
Thou make-bate to a discontented minde,
Thou water-bubble, wastfull puffe of winde,
Thou flying-feather of a wood-cocks wing,
Thou Heathenish and very Pagan thing,
Thou Misers friend, thou worthie Gallants foe,
Thou scuruie Ballat of I wale in woe,
32
Thou worse to me then this Tobacco smoke,
Thou that Rage, Fury, Enuy dost importune,
Ile tickle thee, thou scuruy minded Fortune.
| The Melancholie Knight | |