I am not as was Hercules the stout,
That to the seaventh iournie could hould out; 300
I want those hearbe's and rootes of Indian soile,
That strengthen wearie members in their toile--
Druggs and Electuaries of new devise,
Doe shunne my purse, that trembles at the price. 304
Sufficeth all I haue, I yeald hir hole
Which, for a poore man, is a princelie dole,
I paie our hostess scott and lott at moste,
And looke as leane and lank as anie ghoste; 308
What can be added more to my renowne?
She lyeth breathlesse; I am taken doune;
The waves doe swell, the tydes climbe or'e the banks;
Judge, gentlemen! if I deserue not thanks? 312
And so, good night! unto you euer'ie one;
For loe, our thread is spunne, our plaie is donne.
_Claudito iam vinos Priapa, sat prata biberunt_ [sic[j]].
Tho. Nash.
[Illustration]
_Thus[k] hath my penne presum'd to please my friend--
Oh mightst thou lykewise please Apollo's eye.
No, Honor brooke's no such impietie,
Yett Ouids wanton Muse did not offend.
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