Classic Poem

Against Plumbus the wealthy most miserable Miser.

P LUMBUS may spend a thousand pounds a yeare;
And Iustice is of peace, that shames the Sheere:
Yet like a begger goes, stil goes on foote,
And neuer yet hath vsed horse or boote.
From home to London (three times forty miles)
Is but a walke with Plumbus otherwhiles
At night in ale-houses the man doth lye
To exercise his pure spirits pouerty
O diuine vertue! which a man dost make
To liue in wealth as though he liu'd in lacke
But Plumbus come to towne, he by and by
Heard that his lownesse should be Sheriffe hie;
Then fell he in a feauer, with pure feare
That Fortune would o'rethrow him with this reare,
And that a royal hand with one pins point
(By pricking) would his strong-knit state vnioynt.
Which to preuent, he had liu'd as though he dide.
In this base fashion; so his state to hide.
But Plumbus much I muse thou worldly art;
When through a leafe one pricke doth kill thy heart.