You must spur her up, and put her to’t
Though mon[e]y will not make her goe, your spurs will do’t.
[p. 72.]
A CATCH.
23. Good Symon, how comes it your Nose looks so red,
And your cheeks and lips look so pale?
Sure the heat of the tost your Nose did so rost,
When they were both sous’t in Ale.
It showes like the Spire of Pauls steeple on fire,
Each Ruby darts forth (such lightning) Flashes,