While these cough up their morning flegme, and those
Doe trumpet forth the snivel of their nose;
Straight then the Clerk began with potsheard voice
To grope a tune, singing with wofull noise,
Like a crackt Sans-bell jarring in the Steeple,
Tom Sternholds wretched Prick-song to the people:
Who soon as he hath pac’d the first line through,
Up steps Chuck-farthing then, and he reads too:
This is the womans boy that sits i’th’ Porch
Till th’ Sexton comes, and brings her stoole to Church.