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To Mr E. G.| |
Euen as lame things thirst their perfection, so [f. 30] |
The slimy rimes bred in or vale below, |
Bearing wt them much of my love & hart |
Fly vnto that Parnassus, wher thou art. |
There thou oreseest London: Here I haue beene |
By staing in London too much overseene. |
Now pleasures dirth or City doth posses |
Or Theaters are filld wth emptines. |
As lancke & thin is euery street & way |
As a Woman deliuerd yesterday. |
Nothing wherat to laugh my spleene espyes |
But bearbaitings or law exercise. |
Therfore Ile leaue it, and in ye Cuntry strive |
Pleasure, now fled frō London, to retrive. |
Do thou so to: and fill not like a Bee |
Thy thighs wth hony, but as plenteously |
As Russian Marchants, thy selfes whole vessell load, |
And then at Winter retaile it here abroad. |
Blesse vs wt Suffolks Sweets; & as yt is |
Thy garden, make thy hive & warehouse this. |