If in your Bellies there be crawlers bred
In multitudes like Haires upon your head,
Within some howers space, or there about,
At all the holes you have, I'le fetch them out,
And ferret them before that I have done,
Even like the Hare that foorth a Bush doth run.
Heere is a wond'rous Water for the Eye;
This for the Stomacke: Maisters will you buy?
When I am gone, you will repent too late,
And then (like fooles) among yourselves will prate,