University of Virginia Library

Marry God forfend, Martius swears he'le stab,
Phrigeo, feare not, thou art no lying drab.
What though dagger hack'd mouthes of his blade sweares
It slew as many as figures of yeares
Aqua fotis eate in't, or as many more,
As methodist Musus, kild with Hellebore
In autumne last, yet he beares the male lye
With as smooth calme, as Mecho riualrie.
How ill his shape, with inward forme doth fage,
Like Aphrogenias ill-yok'd marriage.
Fond Physiognomer, complexion
Guides not the inward disposition,
Inclines I yeeld. Thou saist Law Iulia,
Or Catoes often curst Scatinia
Can take no hold on simpring Lesbia,
True, not on her eye, yet Allom oft doth blast,
The sprouting bud that faine would longer last.
Chary Casca, right pure or Rhodanus,
Yet each night drinkes in glassie Priapus.

Yon Pine is fayre, yet fouly doth it ill
To his owne sprouts, marke, his rank drops distill
Foule Naples canker in their tender rinde;
Woe worth when trees drop in their proper kinde!
Mystagogus, what meanes this prodegie?
When Hiadolgo speakes gainst vsurie.
When Verres railes gainst thieues. Mylo doth hate
Murder, Clodius coockolds, Marius the gate
Of squinting Ianus shuts? runne beyond bound
of Nil vltra, and hang me when on's found
Will be himselfe. Had Nature turn'd our eyes
Into our proper selues, these curious spies
Would be asham'd, Flauia would blush to flout
When Oppia calls Lucina helpe her out.
If she did thinke, Lynceus did know her ill,
How Nature, Art, how Art, doth Nature spill.
God pardon me, I often did auer
Quod gratis, grate, the Astronomer
An honest man, but I'le doe so no more,
His face deceau'd me; but now since his whore
And sister are all one, his honestie
Shall be as bare as his Anatomie,
To which hee bound his wife, ô packstaffe rimes!
Why not, when court of starrs shal see these crimes?
Rodds are in pisse, I for thee Empericke,
That twenty graines of Oppium wilt not sticke
To minister to babes. Here's bloody dayes,
When with plaine hearbes, Mutius more men slaies
Then ere third Edwards sword. Sooth in our age,
Mad Coribantes neede not to enrage
The peoples mindes. You Ophiogine
Of Hellespont, with wrangling villanie
The swolne world's inly stung, then daine a touch,
If that your fingers can effect so much.
Thou sweet Arabian Panchaia,
Perfume this nastie age, smugge Lesbia
Hath stinking lunges, although a simpring grace,
A muddy inside, though a surphul'd face.
O for some deepe-searching Corycean,
To ferret out yon lewd Cynedian.

How now Brutus, what shape best pleaseth thee?
All Protean formes, thy wife in venery
At thy inforcement takes; well goe thy way,
Shee may transforme thee ere thy dying day.
Hush, Gracchus heares, that hath retaild more lyes,
Broch'd more slaunders, done more villanies,
Then Fabius perpetuall golden coate
(Which might haue Semper idem for a mott)
Hath beene at feasts, and led the measuring
At Court, and in each marriage reueling.
Writ Palæphatus, comment on those dreames,
That Hylus takes, mid'st dung-pit reeking steames
Of Athos hote house. Gramercie modest smyle.
Chremes a sleepe. Paphia, sport the while.
Lucia, new set thy ruffe, tut thou art pure,
Canst thou not lispe, (good brother) look demure?
Fye Gallus, what, a skeptick Pyrrhomist?
When chast Dictinna, breakes the Zonelike twist?
Tut, hang vp Hieroglyphickes. Ile not faine
Wresting my humor, from his natiue straine.