Some man that to contention is inclin’de; With any thing he sees, a fault wil finde, As, that is not so good, the same’s amisse, I have no great affection unto this. Now I protest I doe not like the same, This must be mended, that deserveth blame, It were farre better such a thing were out, This is obscure, and that’s as full of doubt. And much adoe, and many words are spent In finding out the path that humours went, And for direction to that Idle way Onely a busie tongue bears all the sway. The dish that _Aesope_ did commend for best; Is now a daies in wonderfull request, But if you finde fault on a certaine ground, Weele fall to mending when the fault is found. _Epigram._ Pra’y by your leave, make moūsieur humors roome That oft hath walk’d about Duke Humphries tombe And sat amongst the Knights to see a play, And gone in’s suite of Sattin ev’ry day, And had his hat display a bushie plume, And’s verie beard deliver forth perfume. But when was this? aske Frier Bacons head That answered _Time is past_, O time is fled! Sattin and silke was pawned long agoe, And now in canvase, no knight can him knowe. His former state, in dark oblivion sleepes, Onely Paules Gallarie, that walke he keepes. _Epigram._ Crosse not my humor, with an ill plac’d worde, For if thou doest, behold my fatall sworde: Do’st see my countenance begin looke red? Let that fore-tell ther’s furie in my hed. A little discontent will quickely heate it. Touch not my stake, thou wert as good to eate it, These damned dice how cursed they devoure: I lost some halfe score pound in halfe an houre. A bowle of wine, sirha: you villaine, fill: Who drawes it Rascall? call me hether _Will_. You Rogue, what ha’st to Supper for my dyet? Tel’st me of Butchers meate? knave I defie it. Ile have a banquet to envite an Earle, A _Phœnix_ boyld in broth distil’d in Pearle. Holde drie this leafe, a candle quickly bring, Ile take one pipe to bed, none other thing. Thus with _Tabacco_ he will sup to night: Flesh-meate is heavie, and his purse is light. _Epigram._ Two Gentlemen of hot and fierie sprite, Tooke boate, and went up Westward to goe fight Imbarked both, for Wens-worth they set saile, And there ariving with a happie gaile, The Water-men discharged for their fare, Then to be parted, thus their mindes declare. Pray Ores (said they) stay heere and come not nie, We goe to fight a little, but heere by. The Water-men with staves did follow then, And cryd, oh holde your hands good Gentlemen, You know the danger of the law, forbeare: So they put weapons up and fell to sweare. _Epigram._