Sat: 2.a |
Sr, Though (I thanke God for it) I do hate [f. 3v] |
Perfectly all this towne, yet ther is one State |
In all ill things so excellently best |
That hate towards them breeds pity towards ye rest. |
Though Poetry indeed be such a Sin |
As I thinke yt brings dearths and Spanyards in; |
Though like ye pestilence or old fashiond loue |
It ridlingly catch men, and doth remoue |
Neuer till it be steru'd out, yet their State |
Is poore, disarm'd, like Papists, not worth hate. |
One like a wretch wch at barr iudgd as dead |
Yet prompts him wch stands next, and could not read |
And saues his Life, giues Ideot Actors meanes |
Steruing himselfe to liue by his Labord Sceanes. |
As in some Organes puppets dance aboue |
And bellows pant below wch them do moue. |
One would moue Loue by rhimes; but witchcrafts char\mes |
Bring not now their old feares, nor their old harmes. |
Ramms and Slings now are seely batteree |
Pistolets are the best artilleree. |
And they who write to Lords; rewards to gett |
Are they like boyes singing at dores for meat? |
And they who write because all write, haue still |
That Scuse for wrighting and for wrighting ill. |
But he is worst, who beggerly doth chaw |
Others witts fruites, and in his rauenous maw |
Rawly digested doth those things outspue |
As his owne things, and they'are his owne: tis true. |
for if one eate my meate, though it be knowne |
The meat was myne, the excrement is his owne. |
But these do me no harme. Nor they wch vse |
To outswive dildoes; and out vsure Iewes: |
To out drinke the Sea: outsweare the Letanee: |
Who wt Sins all kinds as familiar bee |
As Confessors: and for whose sinfull sake |
Schoolemen new tenements in hell must make. |