Lucasta's Fanne, With A Looking- Glasse In It
Eastrich! thou featherd foole, and easie prey,
That larger sailes to thy broad vessell needst;
Snakes through thy guttur-neck hisse all the day,
Then on thy iron messe at supper feedst.
O what a glorious transmigration
From this to so divine an edifice
Hast thou straight made! heere from a winged stone
Transform'd into a bird of paradice!