Works

Look upon Sappho's lip, and you will swear
There is a love-like leaven rising there.

When thou dost play and sweetly sing -
Whether it be the voice or string
Or both of them that do agree
Thus to entrance and ravish me -
This, this I know, I'm oft struck mute,
And die away upon thy lute.

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.

Who rashly strove thy Image to portray?
Thou buoyant minion of the tropic air;
How could he think of the live creature gay
With a divinity of colours, drest
In all her brightness, from the dancing crest...

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.

Shift now has cast his clothes: got all things new;
Save but his hat, and that he cannot mew.

Old Widow Shopter, whensoe'er she cries,
Lets drip a certain gravy from her eyes.

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.

With paste of almonds, Syb her hands doth scour;
Then gives it to the children to devour.
In cream she bathes her thighs, more soft than silk;
Then to the poor she freely gives the milk.

When some shall say, Fair once my Silvia was,
Thou wilt complain, False now's thy looking-glass,
Which renders that quite tarnished which was green,
And priceless now what peerless once had been....

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.

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

Slouch he packs up, and goes to several fairs,
And weekly markets for to sell his wares:
Meantime that he from place to place does roam,
His wife her own ware sells as fast at home.

How could Luke Smeaton wear a shoe, or boot,
Who two-and-thirty corns had on a foot.

Snare, ten i' th' hundred calls his wife; and why?
She brings in much by carnal usury.
He by extortion brings in three times more:
Say, who's the worst, th' exactor or the whore?

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

Thou who wilt not love, do this,
Learn of me what woman is.
Something made of thread and thrum.
A mere botch of all and some.
Pieces, patches, ropes of hair;
Inlaid garbage everywhere....