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A STATUTE FOR SWEARERS
7 You that doe scorne abroad
for to be scanting, Though to your wife at home,
bread may be wanting. And your poore children eke
likely to perish: Whilst you with Taplash strong
your corps doe cherish: Crying still, let them starue,
tush, 'tis no matter. With drinke ile stuffe my guts,
let them drinke water. Forsake now your follies,
your booke cannot saue you: For if you sweare and be drunke,
the Stockes will haue you.
8 You that at midnight can
outsweare the watchmen; And braue a Constable,
that stands to catch men. You that with giddie braines
by the wall holdeth, And ith' darke euery post
in his armes foldeth. And you that in the durt,
thrust deepe your noses; There sleeping sweetly as
in beds of Roses: Forsake now your follies,
your booke cannot saue you: For if you sweare and be drunke,
the Stockes will haue you.
9 You that in dregs of drinke
so drowne your reason; That you are loth to leaue in timely season: |
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