Of Fuscus.

When Fuscus first had taught his Muse to scold,
He gloried in her rugged vaine so much,
That euery one came to him, heare her should,
First Victor , then Cinna , nor did he grutch
To let both players, and artificers,
Deale with his darling, as if confident,
None of all these he did repute for Lechers,
Or thought her face would all such lusts preuent:
But how can he a bawdes surname refuse,
Who to all sorts thus prostitutes his Muse?

Of Sextilius.

Sextilius sigh'd, for Leuca let a fart,
Hath not the youth a meruailous kind hart?

To Clodius.

I prethee Clodius , tell me what's the reason,
Thou doost expect I should salute thee first,
I haue sized in Cambridge, and my friends a season
Some exhibition for me there disburst:
Since that, I haue beene in Goad his weekly role,
And beene acquaint with Mounsieur Littleton ,
I haue walkt in Poules, and duly din'd at noone,
And sometimes visited the dauncing schoole:
Then how art thou my better, that I should
Speake alwaies first, as I incroch faine would?

Of Procus.

Procus insteede of more fitting discourse
To entertaine his Mistris eares withall,
Tells her a long tale of a rosted horse,
Of a great brabble did to him befall;
When she demaunds the occasion of the braule,
He in a gallant brauery, gull-like swore,
The reason that he foorth with him did fall,
Was, for the other grutcht him of his whore:
(Ye who doe loue your loues better conceit,)
Iudge if this gull deserued his mistris fauour,

To Candidus.

Friend Candidus , thou often doost demaund,
What humours men by gulling vnderstand:
Our English Martiall hath full pleasantly,
In his close nips describde a gull to thee:
I'le follow him, and set down my conceit
What a Gull is: oh word of much receit!
He is a gull, whose indiscretion,
Cracks his purse strings to be in fashion;
He is a gull, who is long in taking roote
In barraine soyle, where can be but small fruite:
He is a gull, who runnes himselfe in debt,
For twelue dayes wonder, hoping so to get;

Of Faustus.

Faustus in steede of grace, saith Fuscus rimes,
Oh gracelesse manners! oh vnhallowed times!

Of Curio.

Curio threats my death in an Epigrame,
Yfayth hee'le eate his word, he is too blame,
And yet I think hee'le write; then ware of bleeding,
Nay feare not, he writes nothing worth the reading.

Oc Lodius.

Clodius oft sayth he hath chaleng'd beene by many,
But neuer tells me he hath answered any.

Of Riuus.

Once Riuus saw a pretty lasse,
And liquorous tooth'd desir'd to tast,
But knowing not how to bring't to passe,
He vow'd to hange himselfe in hast:
I feard him not, the wench was gone,
And he was loth to hang alone.

Of Zeno.

Zeno desirous of the idle fame
Of Stoicke resolution, recklesly
Seemes to esteeme of good report or blame;
So prouing himselfe dull, most foolishly,
To euery thing he heares, he saith he cares not:
He cares not for his booke, nor yet for wit,
For pleasant catch-fooles in like sort he spares not
To sweare hee's carelesse, carelesse to forget
Or thinke vpon his dutie, soules comfort;
Carelesse to thriue, or liue in decencie;