Follie's anatomie. Or Satyres and satyricall epigrams VVith a compendious history of Ixion's wheele. Compiled by Henry Hutton, Dunelmensis.

To the Reader.

HEark, ye yong Roysters, that with Inkehorn stuffe Delude the state, and rayle the world in snuffe: Let me, in Court'sie, beg a friendly Q, When you haue spent your mouths vpon the view. Chop logick, chaw your cuds; some leisure giue. My Muse, which doth at rack and manger liue, Must halt about the marke; for she's not flight: And yet, though slowe, she sometims speaks aright. I f••are no colours: Let mad Satyres write. The Curres which barke the most, do seldome bite. Let coxcombs curry fauour with a fee, Extoll their braines, with Claw me, I'l claw thee. I write the truth: If any fault you see, Impute it to ill readings, not to me. Dispence with my bold quill: if she be fell, I doe it for the best: I wish all well. Conniue yong wits (which on your humors stand) I'l, with the Prouerbe, Turne the Cat it h'band. And ere ye iarre, for Peace sake giue the way; Sith few, or none, with edg'd tooles safely play.