 | The Night Raven |  |
To the City and Suburbes.
There's not a night I fly throughout the yeare,Be it obscurely darke, or Moone light cleere,
But I behold abuses things vnmeet,
By such as doe vntimely haunt the street.
I heare a knocking at your City gates,
By your good-fellowes, with their drunken pates:
I note the places of polluted sinne
Where your kind wenches and their bawds put in.
I know the houses where base cheaters vse,
And note what Gulls (to worke vpon) they chuse,
I take a notice what your youth are doing,
When you are fast a sleepe, how they are woing
And steale together by some secret call,
Like Piramus and Thisby through the wall,
I see your prentises what pranks they play,
And thing you neuer dreame on can bewray,
But ile giue warning first, for reformation,
Which if it fayle then of another fashion
Ile tell a tayle, some will be loth to heare,
Therefore let these amend and ile forbeare.
| The Night Raven | |