Descry’d in all his East, West-voyages;
That thing, which poets were afrayd to feigne,
For feare her shadowe should infect their braine;
This spouse of Antichrist, and his alone,
Shee’s drest so like the Whore of Babylon;)
Should doate on mee? as if they did contrive
The devill and she, to damne a man alive.
Why doth not Welcome rather purchase her,
And beare about this rare familiar?
Sixe markett dayes, a wake, and a fayre too ’t,