| 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. |