NONSENCE.
Reading edition
(Ashmole’s Museum, A. 37.)
Like to the thundring tone of unspoke speeches, Or like a lobster clad in logicke breeches, Or like the graye-furre of a crimson catt, Or like the moone-calfe in a slip-shodde hatt: Even such is hee who never was begotten Untill his children were both dead and rotten. Like to the fiery tombstone of a cabbage, Or like a crabbe-louse with its bag and baggage, Or like the four square circle of a ring, Or like to hey dinge, dingea dingea dinge: Even such is he who spake, and yet no doubt Spake to small purpose, when his tongue was out. Like to a fairs, fresh, faiding, withered rose, Or lyke to rhyming verse that runs in prose, Or lyke the stumbles of a tynder box, Or lyke a man that’s sound yet hath the pox: Even such is he who dyed, and yet did laugh To see these lines writt for his epitaph.