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.
Reape's eyes so raw are that, it seems, the flies Mistake the flesh, and fly-blow both his eyes; So that an angler, for a day's expense, May bait his hook with maggots taken thence.
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?
Under a lawn, than skies more clear, Some ruffled Roses nestling were, And snugging there, they seem'd to lie As in a flowery nunnery; They blush'd, and look'd more fresh than flowers...
Rush saves his shoes in wet and snowy weather; And fears in summer to wear out the leather; This is strong thrift that wary Rush doth use Summer and winter still to save his shoes.
Thrice happy roses, so much grac'd to have Within the bosom of my love your grave. Die when ye will, your sepulchre is known, Your grave her bosom is, the lawn the stone.
In sober mornings do thou not rehearse The holy incantation of a verse; But when that men have both well drunk, and fed, Let my enchantments then be sung, or read....