Epigram 41: Hunting is all this Gentlemans delight

Hunting is all this Gentlemans delight,
Yet out of Towne his Worship neuer rides:
He hunts inuisible and out of sight,
For in the Citty still his game abides.
He hunts no Lyon, Tygre, nor the Bore,
Nor Bucke, nor Stagge, nor Hart, nor Hinde, nor Hare,
But all his sport's in hunting of a whore,
And in the Chase no trauell he will spare.
He hath one Dog for hunting of the Cunny,
Worth a whole kennell of your flapmouthd Hounds,
He will not part with him for any mony,
But yet the Curre will course beyond his bounds.
But I aduise him to respect his lot,
Least too much heating make him pocky hot.