THE LEADS

some political leaders who called themselves signor trying to a county-palatine they thinks they are quaint they call the burghers bootless money is their suit they say we are dull eyes so they contrive in scrubbed in the Erebus to have prive-coffer they void their rheum with dulcet and in their secret place at night they contrive to lead us of no hand they use their pleasure alas the while
they have setup their nest to confound where is their port
they do they do this is trifle of time
the people who have a mind of love yet some leaders have quicken heaviness upon them
this is cruel and shrewd
they wrest once-authority for their grossness one day they shall hold a candle shame even the close night runaway and all their liver and heart will be conceived the negative things of this cosmos will be defile and nor rest twain when be-shrew them and they shall be he-arsed if they do not repent