|
| Phryne. |
|
| Thy flattering Picture, Phryne, is like thee, |
| Onely in this, that you both painted be. |
|
| An obscure writer. |
|
| Philo, with twelve yeares study hath beene griev'd, |
| To'be understood, when will he be beleev'd. |
|
| * |
| Klockius so deeply hath sworne, ne'r more to come |
| In bawdie house, that he dares not goe home. |
|
| Raderus. |
|
| Why this man gelded Martiall I muse, |
| Except himselfe alone his tricks would use, |
| As Katherine, for the Courts sake, put downe Stews. |
|
| Mercurius Gallo-Belgicus. |
|
| Like Esops fellow-slaves, O Mercurie, |
| Which could doe all things, thy faith is; and I |
| Like Esops selfe, which nothing; I confesse |
| I should have had more faith, if thou hadst lesse; |
| Thy credit lost thy credit: 'Tis sinne to doe, |
| In this case, as thou wouldst be done unto, |
| To beleeve all: Change thy name: thou art like |
| Mercurie in stealing, but lyest like a Greeke. |
|
| * |
| Compassion in the world againe is bred: |
| Ralphius is sick, the broker keepes his bed. |
| The end of the Epigrams. |