Epigram 39: Out of the pan into the fire

Tom sencelesse, to the death doth hate a play:
But yet heele play the drunkard euery day,
He railes at plaies, and yet doth ten times worse,
He'le dice, he'le bowle, he'le whore, he'le sweare, he'le curse,
When for one two pence (if this humor please)
He might go see a play, and scape all these:
But tis mans vse in these pestiferous times
To hate the least, and loue the greatest crimes.