Into his mouth he skips, his teeth he pickles,
Clenseth his palate, and his throat so tickles,
That, charm’d with pleasure, the dull Serpent gapes.
Wider and wider, with his ugly chaps:
Then, like a shaft, th’ Ichneumon instantly
Into the Tyrants greedy gorge doth fly,
And feeds upon that Glutton, for whose Riot,
All Nile’s fat margents scarce could furnish diet.”
Woolly Hens.
Sir John Maundeville saw in “the kingdome named Mancy, which is the best kingdome of the worlde—(Manzi, that part of China south of the river Hoang-ho) whyte hennes, and they beare no feathers, but woll as shepe doe in our lande.”