To Licus.

Licus , thou often tell'st me iestingly,
I am a fine man, and so tyrannously
Hast thou now tired that phrase, that euery one
Is a fine man in thine opinion:
In thine opinion? no it's but thy word,
Which doth that fine addition affoord:
And yet I see no cause but many may,
Be euen as fine as Licus euery way;
In dauncing, vaulting, and in riming too,
In theyr conceits there are as good as you.
Then wherein is't that you so farre surpasse
Other plaine iades, like Lucius golden Asse?
I heare thee say the foulest day that is,

Of the same.

I saw not Cotta thys halfe yeere before,
When he was angry that I spoke not to him,
He hath no reason to take it so sore,
Being so painted that I did not know him.

Of Cotta.

Behold a wonder, neuer seene before,
Yonder's Cotta's picture, dauncing trenchmore.

To Gue.

Gue , hang thy selfe for woe, since gentlemen
Are now growne cunning in thy apishnes:
Nay, for they labour with their foolishnes
Thee to vndoe, procure to hang them then:
It is a strange seeld seene vncharitie,
To make fooles of themselues to hinder thee.

Of Syluio.

Syluio the Lawyer, hunting for the fame
Of a wise man, studies Phylosophie,
And odly in his singularitie,
From being odde, thinks wisedome hath her name.
So long hath he turnde ouer Scaliger ,
Old Cardan and the other chimick wits,
Which haue to after-times demisde their writs,
That a fift Element he doth auerre:
Deserues not he to make the wise men euen,
Who odly thus makes odd the Nerues of heauen?

Of Paule.

Paule daily wrongs me, yet he daily sweares
He wisheth me as well as to his soule:
I know his drift, to damne that he naught cares
To please his body: therefore (good friend Paule )
If thy kind nature will affoord me grace,
Heereafter loue me in thy bodies place.

To Deloney.

Like to the fatall ominous Rauen which tolls,
The sicke mans dirge within his hollow beake,
So euery paper-clothed post in Poules,
To thee ( Deloney ) mourningly doth speake,
And tells thee of thy hempen tragedie.
The wracks of hungry Tyburne naught to thine,
Such massacre's made of thy balladry,
And thou in griefe, for woe thereof maist pine:
At euery streets end Fuscus rimes are read,
And thine in silence must be buried.

Of a railing humour.

(Good Lord) that men should haue such kennel wits
To thinke so well of a scald railing vaine,
Which soone is vented in beslauered writs,
As when the cholicke in the gutts doth straine,
With ciuill conflicts in the same embrac't.
But let a fart, and then the worst is past.

Of Fabler.

Since marriage, Faber's prouder then before,
Yfayth his wife must take him a hole lower.

Of Matho.

Matho in credite bound to pay a debt,
His word engagde him for, doth still replie,
That he will aunswere it with sophistrie,
And so deferres daily to aunswere it:
Experience now hath taught me sophistrie,
He gaue me his word; that is, he coussend me.