He Swallows down the poor, as Crows do Frogs,
And makes no more of Men, than Men of Dogs.
The Pris’ner ends his days in toil and sweat,
To fill the Cabbins of his Cabbinet.
This Cash being ravisht from his reaking brow,
Will be all spent the Devil knows not how.
His Celler’s Hell, he lives by other’s sin,
And cares not who doth loose so he may win.
His Beds are dearer than a Bawdy-house,
There you may have a Whore, but here a Louse.