What feather’d fowle is this that doth approach As if it were an _Estredge_ in a Coach? Three yards of feather round about her hat, And in her hand a bable like to that: As full of Birdes attire, as Owle, or Goose, And like unto her gowne, her selfe seemes loose. Cri’ye mercie Ladie, lewdnes are you there? Light feather’d stuffe befits you best to weare. _A deafe eare, in a just cause._ A Poore man came unto a Judge & shew’d his wronged state, Entreating him for Jesus sake to be compassionate, The wrōgs were great he did sustaine, he had no help at al The Judge sat stil as if the man had spoken to the wall. With that came two rude fellows in, to have a matter tride About an Asse, that one had let the other for to ride: Which Asse the owner found in field, as he by chance past by, And he that hired him a sleepe did in the shadow lye. For which he would be satisfied, his beast was but to ride: And for the shadow of his Asse, he would be paid beside. Great raging words, and damned othes, these two asse-wrangles swore, Whē presently the Judge start up, that seem’d a sleep before And heard yᵉ follies willingly of these two sottish men, But bad the poore man come againe, he had no leasure thē. _Epigram._ A Jolly fellow Essex borne and bred, A Farmers Sonne, his Father being dead, T’expell his griefe and melancholly passions, Had vowd himselfe to travell and see fashions. His great mindes object was no trifling toy, But to put downe the wandring Prince of Troy. Londons discoverie first he doth decide, His man must be his Pilot and his guide. Three miles he had not past, there he must sit: He ask’t if he were not neere London yet? His man replies good Sir your selfe besturre, For we have yet to goe sixe times as farre. Alas I had rather stay at home and digge, I had not thought the worlde was halfe so bigge. Thus this great worthie comes backe (thoewith strife) He never was so farre in all his life. None of the seaven worthies: on his behalfe, Say, was not he a worthie Essex Calfe? _The Humors that haunt a Wife._