 | The Night Raven |  |
Fashions, out at the elbows.
Taylor, I take thy want of manners ill,Dost come to supper to me, with thy bill?
Hast thou no time, but come at candle light?
Or dost thou feare I meane to vanish quite?
My choller tells thee, th' art a botching slaue,
Thy Iourny-man, a very pricklowse knaue.
My Sattin-sute is most malignant made;
Goe burne thy bill, and so resolue th' art pay'd:
And cutter-out thinke y'are a happy man
To scape my fury thus, sirrah I can,
Arest you for the spoyling of my stuffe,
And yet that action shall not be enough,
I haue at least seuerall nine or ten
To teach a knaue, how he wrongs gentlemen:
As making it according to French-nation,
When I should haue it of the Spanish-fashion.
Then bringing it in Iune home, past your day,
When I should had it seene at court it May.
Then for two lice (I will be sworne I found)
Vpon my Pickadilly, creeping round,
But since th' art poore, I some compassion taking
Will punish thee, with, nothing for the making.
| The Night Raven | |