His seconde hawke wexyd gery And was with flyenge wery. She had flowyn so oft, That on the rode loft She perkyd her to rest.

Well, gentlemen, I was standing with her just inside the window, in all innocence, as God is my judge, when he rushed like a madman into the room, called her the vilest name that a man could use to a woman, and welted her across the face with the stick he had in his hand.

As plesaunt to the ere as the blacke sanctus Of a sad sorte vpon a mery pyn.

His gayeſt flooriſhes are but Gaſcoignes Weedes, or Tarletons trickes, or Greenes crankes, or Marlowes bravadoes; his jeſts, but the dregges of common ſcurrilitie, or the ſhreds of the Theater, or the of-ſcouring of new pamflets: […]