Poligonia

Drusus, what makes thee take no trade in hand,
But like. Hermaphrodite, halfe man halfe womā
Pandors thy selfe, and stands at whoores command,
To play the bolt for euery Haxter common?
Spend not thy houres with whoores, lest thou confesse,
There is no life to thy obduratenesse.

Obdurate villaine hard'ned in ill,
That takes delight in seeing Nature naked,
Whose pleasure drawne from selfe-licentious will,
Makes thee of God, of men, and all forsaked;
Shame is thy chaine, thy fetters linkes of sinne,
Whence to escape is hard, being once lock'd in.

What newes from Babell, where that prple whoore,
With seared marrow charmes deluded man,
So lull'd a sleepe, as He forgets heauens power,
And serues that hireling-Neapolitan?
I'le tell the Drusus, sad and heauie newes,
Death vnto Drusus while he hants the stewes.