The Second part of The Nights Search Discovering The Condition of the various Fowles of Night. Or, The second great Mystery of Iniquity exactly revealed: With the Projects of these Times. In a Poem, By Humphrey Mill |
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 | The Second part of The Nights Search |  |
There's not a day, if once I sit but down
But is a Noble-day: alas, a Crown
Will hardly bear my charge! a dish of meat
Would cast one halt on't: many things I eat
Which are not common: now and then I have
A Pullet, and a Tart; sometimes a Crave,
A Pigeon-pye, a Woodcock, or a Goose,
A Pig, a dish of Larks; let me but loose,
I know what comforts age. Beife is but course,
Veal's waterish, mutton grosse, and Pork is worse,
I cry and hold my Legg, some labouring gull
Gives me a penny, when my purse is full.
When he (perhaps) hath not a shilling left
To keep himself. Then begging joyn'd with theft,
There is no better Trade. I have excuse
To save my money which I have at use,
To keep my port, and credit to the last, his port,
When all my merrie begging dayes are past.
How ever all the day I seeme to men,
When I come home, I am no begger then.
What er'e I ask, I have for my delight,
My Table's spread with meat, my bread is white.
A fire, slippers, and a Cup of Ale,
Good Wine, well suggar'd, with a merry tale,
To cheat the slow pac't minutes: I am free
From all suspition by my Beggerie.
Who'l seek for money in a Beggers house,
The Proverb is, there's nothing but a ------
Though I keep Fellons goods, I'm quit from shame,
The harmlesse Beggar is both old and lame.
But is a Noble-day: alas, a Crown
Will hardly bear my charge! a dish of meat
Would cast one halt on't: many things I eat
Which are not common: now and then I have
A Pullet, and a Tart; sometimes a Crave,
A Pigeon-pye, a Woodcock, or a Goose,
A Pig, a dish of Larks; let me but loose,
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Veal's waterish, mutton grosse, and Pork is worse,
I cry and hold my Legg, some labouring gull
Gives me a penny, when my purse is full.
When he (perhaps) hath not a shilling left
To keep himself. Then begging joyn'd with theft,
There is no better Trade. I have excuse
To save my money which I have at use,
To keep my port, and credit to the last, his port,
When all my merrie begging dayes are past.
How ever all the day I seeme to men,
When I come home, I am no begger then.
What er'e I ask, I have for my delight,
My Table's spread with meat, my bread is white.
A fire, slippers, and a Cup of Ale,
Good Wine, well suggar'd, with a merry tale,
To cheat the slow pac't minutes: I am free
From all suspition by my Beggerie.
Who'l seek for money in a Beggers house,
The Proverb is, there's nothing but a ------
Though I keep Fellons goods, I'm quit from shame,
The harmlesse Beggar is both old and lame.
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