John Andrewes Poems

This comes in last, because he comes behinde
those whom he wrongs, though in his doing so
the diuell cannot him in skill foregoe;
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Doe we not hold him mad, that in his hand
dare gripe an Adder, though he crush it dead?
or seemes it strange, if he by whom is fedde
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They that compare the fawning Parisite
vnto the Spaniel, do the curre much wrong;
for he will often heare his masters tongue,
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Some haue compar'd (and not improperly)
him that is tainted with this worst of ills
vnto the Swine, who (freely, daily) fills
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If on the waters you shall cast your bread
it is not lost, but if your pearles you throw
Vnto these swine, be sure the same they'l tread
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Though Wolues against the siluer Moon do bark,
they blemish not her brightnes, nor the spight
Of bauling Curres, (which she disdains to mark)
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Think'st thou it makes thy Reputation faire,
if by thy muddy tongue thou canst impaire
An other mans? looke how a murtherer can
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Bvt that I know thy face, I must confesse
I should haue trembled; for an Obiect lesse
Fearefull, were able without Physicks Art
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Is it not strange, that such can liue, whose foode
is dres'd by Enuie, and with poyson mixt,
Whose heart's the kitchin, and whose canker'd bloud
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Fond Man, that suck'st the pleasing poyson in
(which from the Syrens vnsuspected tongue
Is kindly offer'd to thine eare) wherein
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