Like a bigge wife, at sight of loathed meat, 115 Readie to travaile: So I sigh, and sweat To heare this Makeron talke: In vaine; for yet, Either my humour, or his owne to fit, He like a priviledg'd spie, whom nothing can Discredit, Libells now'gainst each great man. 120 He names a price for every office paid; He saith, our warres thrive ill, because delai'd; That offices are entail'd, and that there are Perpetuities of them, lasting as farre As the last day; And that great officers, 125 Doe with the Pirates share, and Dunkirkers. Who wasts in meat, in clothes, in horse, he notes; Who loves whores, who boyes, and who goats. I more amas'd then Circes prisoners, when They felt themselves turne beasts, felt my selfe then 130 Becomming Traytor, and mee thought I saw One of our Giant Statutes ope his jaw To sucke me in; for hearing him, I found That as burnt venome Leachers do grow sound By giving others their soares, I might growe 135 Guilty, and he free: Therefore I did shew All signes of loathing; But since I am in, I must pay mine, and my forefathers sinne To the last farthing; Therefore to my power Toughly and stubbornly I beare this crosse; But the'houre 140 Of mercy now was come; He tries to bring Me to pay a fine to scape his torturing, And saies, Sir, can you spare me; I said, willingly; Nay, Sir, can you spare me a crowne? Thankfully I Gave it, as Ransome; But as fidlers, still, 145 Though they be paid to be gone, yet needs will Thrust one more jigge upon you: so did hee With his long complementall thankes vexe me. But he is gone, thankes to his needy want, And the prerogative of my Crowne: Scant 150 His thankes were ended, when I, (which did see All the court fill'd with more strange things then hee) Ran from thence with such or more hast, then one Who feares more actions, doth make from prison. At home in wholesome solitarinesse 155 My precious soule began, the wretchednesse Of suiters at court to mourne, and a trance Like his, who dreamt he saw hell, did advance It selfe on mee, Such men as he saw there, I saw at court, and worse, and more; Low feare 160 Becomes the guiltie, not the accuser; Then, Shall I, nones slave, of high borne, or rais'd men Feare frownes? And, my Mistresse Truth, betray thee To th'huffing braggart, puft Nobility? No, no, Thou which since yesterday hast beene 165 Almost about the whole world, hast thou seene, O Sunne, in all thy journey, Vanitie, Such as swells the bladder of our court? I Thinke he which made your waxen garden, and Transported it from Italy to stand 170 With us, at London, flouts our Presence, for Just such gay painted things, which no sappe, nor