And he a double gelding prov'd indeed;
For he so suddenly fell to his speed,

That both alight, with blows and threats among,
He leads him, and his wife drives him along.

IIO. To A. S.

Rich Chremes whilst he lives will nought bestow
On his poore heires, but all at his last day,
If he be halfe as rich I trow,

He thinks that for his life they seldome pray.

III.

On Clarret wine spilt.

What's this that's spilt? 'tis clarret wine, "Tis well 'tis spilt, its fall sav'd mine.

I12. On Women.

Are women Saints ? no Saints, and yet no devils, Are women good? not good, but needfull evils, So angel like that devils you need not doubt, Such needfull evils, that few can be without.

113. Liber too wary to thrive.

Liber is late set up and wanteth custome,
Yet great resort hath got, but will not trust 'em :
Is not his love unto his friend the greater,

Hee'l want himselfe, ere hee'l see him a debtor.

114. On Venus and Vulcan.

I muse, why Venus hath such fiery holes,

I thinke that Vulcan, once there blow'd his coales.

115. Sorte tua contentus,

Bartus being bid to supper to a Lord,

Was marshall'd at the lower end of the boord,
Who vext thereat, 'mongst his comrades doth fret
And sweares that he below the salt was set;
But Bartus, th'art a fool to fret and sweare,

The salt stands on the bord wouldst thou sit there?

116. Fervent perjuria furtum.

Piso hath stoln a silver bole in jest,
For which suspected only, not confest,
Rather then Piso will restore your bole,
To quit the body, he will cast the soule.

117. Virescit vulnere Venus.

Susan's well sped and weares a velvet hood,
As who should know, her breeding hath bin good?
'Tis reason she should rise once in her life,
That fell so oft before she was a wife.

118. On a rich country Gentleman.

Of woods, of plaines, of hils and vales,
Of fields, of meades, of parks and pales,
Of all I had, this I possesse,

I need no more I have no lesse.

119. In Octavium.

Octavius lying at the point of death,
His gelding kindly did to me bequeath:
I wanted one, and was in haste to ride,
In better time he never could have di'd.

Before I knew what might belong to war,
I was content to suffer many a scar;
Yet none could hurt me, 'till at length a boy,
Disgrace to manhood, wrought my sad annoy,
This lad though blind, yet did he shoot a dart
Which pierc'd my brest and lighted on my heart,
Yet did I feel no hurt till from above,

I heard a voyce say souldiers you must love,
I lik't it well and in this pleasing vaine :

I lost my wits to get my heart againe.

121. Most men mistaken.

Good, bad, rich, poor, the foolish and the sage, Doe all cry out against the present age: Ignorance makes us thinke our young times good, Our elder dayes are better understood :

Besides griefes past, we easily forget,

Present displeasures make us sad or fret.

Fine, neat, and curious misteris Butterfly,
The idle toy, to please an idiots eyes:

You, that wish all good huswives hang'd, for why,
Your dayes work's done, each morning as you rise:
Put on your gown, your ruff, your mask, your chain,
Then dine, and sup, and goe to bed againe.

You were created angels pure and fayre,

But since the first fell, tempting devills you are:
You should be mens blisse, but you prove their rods
Were there no women men might live like gods.

124. On a Bed-rid man.

A bed-rid man before the judge was brought,
The judge bids stand up sirrah as you ought;
Oh sir, nor goe, nor sit, nor stand can I,
I am your friend, pray give me leave to lie :
Art thou my friend quoth he? then lie thy fill,
A judge gives all his friends leave to lie still.

125. In procos.

Who woes a wife, thinks wedded men do know,
The onely true content, I thinke not so:

If Woe in wooers be, that women court,
As the word Woe in wooers doth import:

And Woe in woemen too, that courted be,
As the word Woe, in women we doe see:
I thinke 'tis better lead a single life,
Then with this double woe to wooe a wife.

126. On Promises.

My Mistrisse sweares shee'd leave all men for me,
Yea though that Fove himselfe should rivall be:
She sweares it, but what women sweare to kind-
Loves, may be writ in rapid seas and winde.

127. On a barber.

Suppose my Barber, when his razors nigh
My throat, should then aske wealth and liberty:
Ide promise sure, the Barber askes not this,
No, 'tis a Thiefe and feare imperious is.

128. On Durus.

A friend of Durus comming on a day

To visit him, finding the doores say nay;

Being lock'd fast up, first knocks, and then doth Pause, As Lord have mercy on's had bin the cause;

But missing it, he ask't a neighbour by

When the rich Durus' doors were lock't, and why?
He said it was a custome growne of late

At diner time, to lock your great man's gate.

Durus' poore friend admir'd, and thought the door
Was not for State lock'd up, but 'gainst the poore,
And thence departing empty of good cheere,
Said, Lord have mercy on us, is not there.