Whose backs are broke with age, and forheads driu’n
To stoope to Earth, though borne to looke on Heav’n.
Euen like to these, Those tough-bred rude ones goe,
Flying the white drifts of the Northerne Snowe.
V.
But then betake thee to the shade that lies
In shield of Rocks; drinke Biblian wine, and eate
The creamy wafer: Gotes milke, that the Teate
Giues newly free, and nurses Kids no more:
Flesh of Bow-brousing Beeues, that neuer bore,