THE HAG. THE bag is astride, This night for to ride, Through thick, and through thin, Though ne'r so foule be the weather. A thorn or a burr She takes for a spurre, With a lash of a bramble she rides now, Through brakes and through bryars, O're ditches and mires, She followes the spirit that guides now. No beast for his food Dares now range the wood, But husht in his laire he lies lurking: While mischeifs by these, On land and on seas, At noone of night are a working. The storme will arise And trouble the skies This night, and more for the wonder, Affrighted shall come, Cal'd out by the clap of the thunder. UPON AN OLD MAN, A RESIDENCIARIE TREAD, sirs, as lightly as ye can And thrice three weekes, he lived here: Yet, reader, let me tell thee this, UPON TEARES. TEARES, though th'are here below the sinners brine, Above they are the angels spiced wine. PHYSITIANS. PHYSITIANS fight not against men; but these Combate for men, by conquering the disease. THE PRIMITIE TO PARENTS. OUR houshold-gods our parents be, UPON COB. EPIG. COB clouts his shooes, and as the story tells, His thumb-nailes par'd, afford him sperrables.* UPON LUCIE. EPIG. SOUND teeth has Lucie, pure as pearl, and small, With mellow lips and luscious there withall. UPON SKOLES. EPIG. SKOLES stinks so deadly, that his breeches loath His dampish buttocks furthermore to cloath. Cloy'd they are up with arse; but hope one blast Will whirl about and blow them thence at last. *Shoemakers' nails. TO SILVIA. I AM holy while I stand TO HIS CLOSET-GODS.* WHEN I goe hence, ye closet-gods, I feare But now 'tis clos'd; and being shut and seal'd, Keep here still, closet-gods, 'fore whom I've set Oblations oft of sweetest marmelet. Crowne it agen, agen, And thrice repeat That happy heat, To drink to thee, my Ben. Well I can quaffe, I see, Or nine; but thrive In frenzie ne'r like thee. LONG LOOKT FOR COMES AT LAST. THOUGH long it be, yeeres may repay the debt; None loseth that which he in time may get. TO YOUTH. DRINX wine, and live here blithefull, while ye may: The morrowes life too late is; live to day. NEVER TOO LATE TO DYE. No man comes late unto that place from whence Never man yet had a regredience. |