 | The Knave of Harts |  |
Beggery embraceth Whoredome.
Oh, what a gallant Punck haue I knowne Grace?(thogh gracious deed she neuer wold embrace)
Her customes great, her ornaments excelling:
A famous Baudy-house her antient dwelling.
Her fashions rare, and of the Diuels best,
His owne choise whore could goe no brauer drest.
Her trappings from the toe vnto the top,
Might furnish out an Exchange-mercers Shoppe:
A leather Cart to iowlt and shake her in,
(Hauing with carting well acquainted bin)
Her swagg'ring Gallants that through Cupids itch,
Haue haunted her as Dogs doe haunt a Bitch.
Yet all is chang'd, there is great alteration,
Shee is as stale as Breech with Cod-piece fashion,
VVhereof no Tailor can auouch the troth,
VVithout he proue it with old painted cloth.
This ruffling Grace (or rather, Gracelesse ruffler,
Is now from cutting turn'd a needy shuffler:
Yea, this same silken, golden, cyuit VVhore,
Is roguish ragged, and most pockey poore.
| The Knave of Harts | |