Works

Thou writes in prose how sweet all virgins be;
But there's not one, doth praise the smell of thee.

Long locks of late our zealot Peason wears,
Not for to hide his high and mighty ears;
No, but because he would not have it seen
That stubble stands where once large ears have been.

Soon did he Almighty Giver of all rest
Take those dear young Ones to a fearless nest;
And in Death's arms has long reposed the Friend
For whom this simple Register was penned....

Pievish doth boast that he's the very first
Of English poets, and 'tis thought the worst.

To paint the fiend, Pink would the devil see;
And so he may, if he'll be rul'd by me;
Let but Pink's face i' th' looking-glass be shown,
And Pink may paint the devil's by his own.

Prickles is waspish, and puts forth his sting
For bread, drink, butter, cheese; for everything
That Prickles buys puts Prickles out of frame;
How well his nature's fitted to his name!

Give me a reason why men call
Punchin a dry plant-animal.
Because as plants by water grow,
Punchin by beer and ale spreads so.

Puss and her 'prentice both at drawgloves play;
That done, they kiss, and so draw out the day:
At night they draw to supper; then well fed,
They draw their clothes off both, so draw to bed.

Curse not the mice, no grist of thine they eat;
But curse thy children, they consume thy wheat.

Rasp plays at nine-holes; and 'tis known he gets
Many a tester by his game and bets:
But of his gettings there's but little sign;
When one hole wastes more than he gets by nine.

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.

Skinns, he dined well to-day: how do you think?
His nails they were his meat, his rheum the drink.

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.

Skrew lives by shifts; yet swears by no small oaths
For all his shifts he cannot shift his clothes.

Sneape has a face so brittle, that it breaks
Forth into blushes whensoe'er he speaks.