Committed to your Rhodon's custody, Ye, Nero-like, abuse? yet ne'er approach Your new St. Omer's[459] lewdness here to broach; Tainting our towns and hopeful academes With your lust-baiting, most abhorrèd means. Valladolid, our Athens, 'gins to taste Of thy rank filth. Camphire and lettuce chaste[460] Are clean cashier'd; now Sophi ringoes eat, Candied potatoes are Athenians' meat. 70 Hence, holy thistle, come sweet marrow-pie, Enflame our backs to itching luxury. A crab's[461] baked guts, a lobster's butter'd thigh, I hear them swear is blood for venery. Had I some snout-fair[462] brats, they should endure The new-found Castilion calenture Before some pedant tutor, in his bed, Should use my frie like Phrygian Ganymede. Nay, then, chaste cells, when greasy Aretine, For his rank fico,[463] is surnamed divine; 80 Nay, then, come all ye venial scapes to me, I dare well warrant you'll absolvèd be. Rufus, I'll term thee but intemperate-- I will not once thy vice exaggerate-- Though that each hour thou lewdly swaggerest, And at the quarter-day pay'st interest For the forbearance of thy chalkèd score; Though that thou keep'st a tally with thy whore: Since Nero keeps his mother Agrippine, And no strange lust can satiate[464] Messaline. 90 Tullus, go scotfree; though thou often bragg'st That, for a false French crown thou vaulting hadst; Though that thou know'st, for thy incontinence, Thy drab repaid thee true French pestilence. But tush! his boast I bear, when Tegeran Brags that he foists his rotten courtezan Upon his heir, that must have all his lands, And them hath join'd in Hymen's sacred bands. I'll wink at Robrus, that for vicinage Enters common on his next neighbour's stage; 100 When Jove maintains his sister and his whore, And she incestuous, jealous evermore Lest that Europa on the bull should ride; Woe worth, when beasts for filth are deified! Alack, poor rogues! what censor interdicts The venial scapes of him that purses picks? When some sly golden-slopp'd Castilio Can cut a manor's strings at primero? Or with a pawn shall give a lordship mate, In statute-staple[465] chaining fast his state? 110 What academic starved satirist Would gnaw reez'd[466] bacon, or, with ink-black fist, Would toss each muck-heap for some outcast scraps Of half-dung bones, to stop his yawning chaps? Or, with a hungry, hollow, half-pined jaw Would once a thrice-turn'd bone-pick'd subject gnaw, When swarms of mountebanks and banditti, Damn'd Briareans, sinks of villainy, Factors for lewdness, brokers for the devil, Infect our souls with all-polluting evil? 120 Shall Lucia scorn her husband's lukewarm bed (Because her pleasure, being hurrièd In jolting coach, with glassy instrument,