Brunus which thinks himself a fair sweet youth
Is thirty-nine years of age at least ;
Yet was he never, to confess the truth,
But a dry starveling when he was at best.
This gull was sick to shew his nightcap fine,
And his wrought pillow overspread with lawn;
But hath been well since his grief's cause hath lien,
At Trollop's by Saint Clement's church in pawn.
When Francus comes to solace with his whore,
He sends for rods and strips himself stark naked;
For his lust sleeps, and will not rise before
By whipping of the wench it be awaked.
I envy him not, but wish I had the power,
To make myself his wench but one half hour.
Of speaking well, why do we learn the skill,
Hoping thereby honor and wealth to gain:
Sith rayling Castor doth by speaking ill,
Opinion of much wit, and gold obtain.
IN SEPTIMUM. 35.
Septimus lives, and is like garlick seen,
For though his head be white, his blade is green: This old mad colt deserves a martyr's praise,
For he was burned in Queen Mary's days.
Homer of Moly, and Nepenthe sings,
Moly the Gods most sovereign herb divine;
Nepenthe Hekens drink with gladness brings,
Heart's grief expels, and doth the wits refine.
But this our age another world hath found,
From whence an herb of heavenly power is brought,
Moly is not so sovereign for a wound,
Nor hath Nepenthe so great wonders wrought.
It is tobacco, whose sweet substantial fume,
The hellish torment of the teeth doth ease,
By drawing down, and drying up the rheum,
The mother and the nurse of each disease.
It is tobacco which doth cold expel,
And clears the obstructions of the arteries,
And surfeits threat'ning death digesteth well,
Decocting all the stomach's crudities.
It is tobacco which hath power to clarify,
The cloudy mists before dim eyes appearing,
It is tobacco, which hath power to rarify
The thick gross humour which doth stop the hearing,
The wasting hectic and the quartan fever,
Which doth of physic make a mockery:
The gout it cures, and helps ill breaths for ever,
Whether the cause in teeth or stomach be:
And though ill breaths, were by it but confounded,
Yet that medicine it doth far excel,
Which by Sir Thomas Moore hath been propounded, For this is thought a gentleman-like smell.
Brunus which thinks himself a fair sweet youth
Is thirty-nine years of age at least ;
Yet was he never, to confess the truth,
But a dry starveling when he was at best.
This gull was sick to shew his nightcap fine, And his wrought pillow overspread with lawn; But hath been well since his grief's cause hath lien, At Trollop's by Saint Clement's church in pawn.
When Francus comes to solace with his whore,
He sends for rods and strips himself stark naked;
For his lust sleeps, and will not rise before
By whipping of the wench it be awaked.
I envy him not, but wish I had the power,
To make myself his wench but one half hour.
Of speaking well, why do we learn the skill,
Hoping thereby honor and wealth to gain:
Sith rayling Castor doth by speaking ill,
Opinion of much wit, and gold obtain.
IN SEPTIMUM. 35.
Septimus lives, and is like garlick seen,
For though his head be white, his blade is green : This old mad colt deserves a martyr's praise,
For he was burned in Queen Mary's days.
Homer of Moly, and Nepenthe sings,
Moly the Gods most sovereign herb divine;
Nepenthe Hekens drink with gladness brings,
Heart's grief expels, and doth the wits refine.
But this our age another world hath found,
From whence an herb of heavenly power is brought,
Moly is not so sovereign for a wound,
Nor hath Nepenthe so great wonders wrought.
It is tobacco, whose sweet substantial fume,
The hellish torment of the teeth doth ease,
By drawing down, and drying up the rheum,
The mother and the nurse of each disease.
It is tobacco which doth cold expel,
And clears the obstructions of the arteries,
And surfeits threat'ning death digesteth well,
Decocting all the stomach's crudities.
It is tobacco which hath power to clarify,
The cloudy mists before dim eyes appearing,
It is tobacco, which hath power to rarify
The thick gross humour which doth stop the hearing,
The wasting hectic and the quartan fever,
Which doth of physic make a mockery:
The gout it cures, and helps ill breaths for ever,
Whether the cause in teeth or stomach be:
And though ill breaths, were by it but confounded,
Yet that medicine it doth far excel,
Which by Sir Thomas Moore hath been propounded, For this is thought a gentleman-like smell.
O that I were one of these mountebanks,
Which praise their oils, and powders which they sell,
My customers would give me coin with thanks!
I for this ware, forsooth a tale would tell;
Yet would I use none of these terms before,
I would but say, that it the pox will cure ;
This were enough, without discoursing more,
All our brave gallants in the town t' allure.
Crassus's lies are not pernicious lies,
But pleasant fictions, hurtful unto none
But to himself, for no man counts him wise,
To tell for truth, that which for false is known.
He swears that Caunt is threescore miles about,
And that the bridge at Paris on the Seine,
Is of such thickness, length and breadth, throughout,
That six-score arches can it scarce sustain :
He swears he saw so great a dead man's scull,
At Canterbury digged out of the ground,
That would contain of wheat three bushels full,
And that in Kent are twenty yeomen found,
Of which the poorest every year dispends
Five thousand pound: these and five thousand moe,
So oft he hath recited to his friends,
That now himself persuades himself 'tis so.
But why doth Crassus tell his lies so rife,
Of bridges, towns, and things that have no life :
He is a lawyer, and doth well espy,
That for such lies an action will not lie.
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