His conscience was so cauteriz’d,
He refus’d nothing that I pleas’d;
For which he’s had my kindness still,
Since he his labour did fulfil.
Rothes like a sow in mire,
Who of his whoredom did not tire,
But wallow’d in adultery,
In cursing and profanity,
And did allot the Sabbath-day,
To spend it in his game and play;