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.
Roots had no money; yet he went o' the score, For a wrought purse; can any tell wherefore? Say, what should Roots do with a purse in print, That had not gold nor silver to put in't?
Scobble for whoredom whips his wife; and cries He'll slit her nose; but blubb'ring, she replies, Good sir, make no more cuts i' th' outward skin, One slit's enough to let adultry in.
Shark, when he goes to any public feast, Eats to one's thinking, of all there, the least. What saves the master of the house thereby When if the servants search, they may descry...
Last night thou didst invite me home to eat; And showed me there much plate, but little meat. Prithee, when next thou do'st invite, bar state, And give me meat, or give me else thy plate.
Sibb, when she saw her face how hard it was, For anger spat on thee, her looking-glass: But weep not, crystal; for the same was meant Not unto thee, but that thou didst present.
Skoles stinks so deadly, that his breeches loath His dampish buttocks furthermore to clothe; Cloy'd they are up with arse; but hope, one blast Will whirl about, and blow them thence at last.
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.
Why do not all fresh maids appear To work love's sampler only here, Where spring-time smiles throughout the year? Are not here rosebuds, pinks, all flowers Nature begets by th' sun and showers,...