Who has not a month's mind to combat?)
A squeaking engine he apply'd
Unto his neck, on north-east side,
Just where the hangman does dispose, 115
To special friends, the knot of noose:
For 'tis great grace, when statesmen straight
Dispatch a friend, let others wait.
His warped ear hung o'er the strings,
Which was but souse to chitterlings: 120
For guts, some write, e'er they are sodden,
Are fit for music, or for pudden;
From whence men borrow ev'ry kind
Of minstrelsy by string or wind.
His grisly beard was long and thick, 125
With which he strung his fiddle-stick;
For he to horse-tail scorn'd to owe,
For what on his own chin did grow.
Chiron, the four-legg'd bard, had both
A beard and tail of his own growth; 130
And yet by authors 'tis averr'd,
He made use only of his beard.
In Staffordshire, where virtuous worth
Does raise the minstrelsy, not birth;
Where bulls do chuse the boldest king, 135
And ruler, o'er the men of string;
(As once in Persia, 'tis said,
Kings were proclaim'd by a horse that neigh'd;)
He bravely venturing at a crown,
By chance of war was beaten down, 140
And wounded sore. His leg then broke,