Is hooted for his nudities, and scorn’d.
A man I knew, who lived upon a smile;
And well it fed him; he look’d plump and fair;
While rankest venom foam’d through every vein.
Lorenzo! what I tell thee, take not ill!
Living, he fawn’d on every fool alive; 340
And, dying, cursed the friend on whom he lived.
To such proficients thou art half a saint.
In foreign realms (for thou hast travell’d far)
How curious to contemplate two state-rooks,