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I left my natiue soile, full like a retchlesse man, And vnacquainted of the coast, among the Russes ran: A people passing rude, to vices vile inclinde, Folke fit to be of Bacchus traine, so quaffing is the kinde. Drinke is their whole desire, the pot is all their pride, The sobrest head doth once a day stand needfull of a guide.
Nay some there are that will in their sobrest sence go with their sons, as if they were their companions, into a Tavern without making any sort of difference; and also, when there is a necessity or occasion for it, know but very slenderly how to demonstrate their paternal prudence and respect; but in this manner let loose the bridle of government over their children.
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