Upon Skrew. Epig.

Shift now has cast his clothes: got all things new;
Save but his hat, and that he cannot mew.

Skurf by his nine-bones swears, and well he may:
All know a fellon eat the tenth away.

Skoles stinks so deadly, that his breeches loath
His dampish buttocks furthermore to clothe;
Cloy'd they are up with arse; but hope, one blast
Will whirl about, and blow them thence at last.

Skinns, he dined well to-day: how do you think?
His nails they were his meat, his rheum the drink.

Groynes, for his fleshly burglary of late,
Stood in the holy forum candidate;
The word is Roman; but in English known:
Penance, and standing so, are both but one.

Scobble for whoredom whips his wife; and cries
He'll slit her nose; but blubb'ring, she replies,
Good sir, make no more cuts i' th' outward skin,
One slit's enough to let adultry in.