If that thou wilt not read, let it alone;
Some love the meat, ſome love to pick, the bone:
Yea, that I might them better palliate,
I did too with them thus Expoſtulate.
May I not write in ſuch a ſtile as this?
In such a method too, and yet not miſs
Mine end, thy good? why may it not be done?
Dark. Clouds bring Waters, when the bright bring
Yea, darker bright, if they their Silver drops (none
Cauſe to deſcend, the Earth, by yielding Crops,
Gives praise to both, and carpeth not at either,
But treaſures up the Fruit they yield together:
Yea, ſo commixes both, that in her Fruit
None can distinguiſh this from that, they ſuit
Her well, when hungry: but if ſhe be full,
She ſpues out both, and makes their bleſſings null.
You ſee the ways the Fiſher-man doth take
To catch the Fiſh; what Engins doth he make?
Behold how he ingageth all his Wits,
Alſo his Snares, Lines, Angles, Hooks and Nets.
Yet Fiſh there be, that neither Hook, nor Line,
Nor Snare, nor Net, nor Engin can make thine;
They must be grop't for, and be tickled too,
Or they will not be catcht, what e're you do.
How doth the Fowler ſeek to catch his Game,
By divers means, all which one cannot name?
His Gun, his Nets, his Lime-twigs, light, and bell:
He creeps, he goes, he ſtands; yea who can tell
Of all his poſtures, Yet there's none of theſe
