tinking say,
Who can hold that, my friends, that will away?

430. OBSERVATION.

Who to the north, or south, doth set
His bed, male children shall beget.

433. PUTREFACTION.

Putrefaction is the end
Of all that nature doth intend.

434. PASSION.

Were there not a matter known,
There would be no passion.

435. JACK AND JILL.

Since Jack and Jill both wicked be;
It seems a wonder unto me,
That they, no better do agree.

436. UPON PARSON BEANES.

Old Parson Beanes hunts six days of the week,
And on the seventh, he has his notes to seek.
Six days he hollows so much breath away,
That on the seventh, he can nor preach or pray.

438. SHORT AND LONG BOTH LIKES.

This lady's short, that mistress she is tall;
But long or short, I'm well content with all.

440. UPON ROOK. EPIG.

Rook he sells feathers, yet he still doth cry
Fie on this pride, this female vanity.
Thus, though the Rook does rail against the sin,
He loves the gain that vanity brings in.

456. UPON SPUNGE. EPIG.

Spunge makes his boasts that he's the only man
Can hold of beer and ale an ocean;
Is this his glory? then his triumph's poor;
I know the tun of Heidleberg holds more.

464. UPON ONE WHO SAID SHE WAS ALWAYS YOUNG.

You say you're young; but when your teeth are told
To be but three, black-ey'd, we'll think you old.

465. UPON HUNCKS. EPIG.

Huncks has no money, he does swear or say,
About him, when the tavern's shot's to pay.
If he has none in 's pockets, trust me, Huncks
Has none at home in coffers, desks, or trunks.

476. UPON A CHEAP LAUNDRESS. EPIG.

Feacie, some say, doth wash her clothes i' th' lie
That sharply trickles from her either eye.
The laundresses, they envy her good-luck,
Who can with so small charges drive the buck.
What needs she fire and ashes to consume,
Who can scour linens with her own salt rheum?

_Drive the buck_, wash clothes.

482. UPON SKURF.

Skurf by his nine-bones swears, and well he may:
All know a fellon eat the tenth away.

_Fellon_, whitlow.

500. UPON JACK AND JILL. EPIG.

When Jill complains to Jack for want of meat,
Jack kisses Jill and bids her freely eat:
Jill says, Of what? says Jack, On that sweet kiss,
Which full of nectar and ambrosia is,
The food of poets. So I thought, sa