To Dr F B[eale]; On His Book Of Chesse

Sir, how unravell'd is the golden fleece:

Men, that could only fool at FOX AND GEESE,

Are new-made polititians by thy book,

And both can judge and conquer with a look.

The hidden fate of princes you unfold;

Court, clergy, commons, by your law control'd.

Strange, serious wantoning all that they

Bluster'd and clutter'd for, you PLAY.