Upon Franck.

Franck ne'er wore silk she swears; but I reply,
She now wears silk to hide her blood-shot eye.

Of four teeth only Bridget was possest;
Two she spat out, a cough forced out the rest.

Joan would go tell her hairs; and well she might,
Having but seven in all: three black, four white.

Who with thy leaves shall wipe, at need,
The place where swelling piles do breed;
May every ill that bites or smarts
Perplex him in his hinder parts.

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

You say you're young; but when your teeth are told
To be but three, black-ey'd, we'll think you old.