All the workes of Iohn Taylor the Water-Poet Being Sixty and three in Number. Collected into one Volume by the Author [i.e. John Taylor]: With sundry new Additions, corrected, reuised, and newly Imprinted |
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 | All the workes of Iohn Taylor the Water-Poet |  |
A Cutpurse.
The Argvment.
This is a mad knaue, liues by trickes and sleights.He diues by Land, and dies within the ayre:
He serues no man, yet courteously he waites
On whom he list, in Church, towne, throng or faire.
He will not worke, yet is well cloath'd and fed.
And for his farewell seldome dies in's bed.
This Spirit, or this Ferrit next that enters
(Although he be no Merchant) much he ventures.
And though he be a noted coward, yet
Most valiantly he doth his liuing get.
He hath no weapon but a curtoll knife.
Wherewith for what he hath he hazards life.
East Indian Merchants crosse the raging Floods,
And in their ventering, venter but their goods:
When as themselues at hope securely sleepe,
And neuer plow the dangerous Ocean deepe,
If they doe lose by Pirates, tempests, rocks,
'Tis but a Fleabite to their wealthy stockes:
Whilst the poore Curpurse day and night doth toile,
Watches and wardes, and doth himselfe turmoile:
Oft cuts a purse before the Sessions barre,
Whilst others for their liues a pleading are,
To Sturbridge Faire, or vnto Bristoll ambles
In ieopardie he for his liuing rambles,
And what he gets he doth not beg or borrow,
Ventures his necke, and there's an end, hang sorrow.
Whilst midst his perils he doth drinke and sing,
And hath more purse-bearers then any King,
Liues like a Gentleman by sleight of hand,
Can play the Foist, the Nip, the Stale, the Stand.
The Snap, the Curb, the Crosbite, Warpe and Lift,
Decoy, prig, Cheat, (all for a hanging shift.)
Still valiant where he comes, and free from care,
And dares the stockes, the Whip, the Jaile out-dare.
Speakes the braue canting tongue, lyes with his dell,
Or pad, or doxi, or his bonny Nell,
And liues as merry as the day is long,
In scorne of Tyburne, or the ropes dingdong,
But now a iest or two to minde I call,
Which to this function lately did befall:
A Cutpurse standing in a market-towne,
As for his prey his eyes scowld vp and downe,
At last he shoulders neare a Country Lasse,
And cut her purse as by her he did passe.
Shee spide and caught him, and began to raue,
Call'd him rogue, rascall, villeyne, thiefe and slaue.
Gep with a pox, the Cutpurse then replide,
Are you so fine, you can no iesting bide,
I'ue iested more with forty honest men,
So with a moraine take your purse agen.
Another sattin Cutpurse dawbd with lace,
A Country Gentleman for's purse did chase,
On whom a blew-coat Seruingman did wait,
And passing through a narrow obscure strait,
The thieuing knaue the purse he nimbly nims,
And like a land-sharke thence by Land he swims.
The Seruingman perceiu'd the Cutpurse tricke,
Said nought, but dogges him through thin and thick,
Vntill the thiefe suppos'd the coast was cleare,
As he was pissing Blew-coat cut off's eare.
The Cutpurse madly gins to sweare and curse,
The other said, giue me my Masters purse,
Which you stole lately from his pocket, then
There's no wrong done, but here's your eare agen
Thus though a Cutpurse trade be counted ill,
I say he is a man of action still,
Waites on Ambassadors that comes and goes,
Attends at Tiltings and tryumphant showes
At Westminster he still attendance giues,
On my Lord Maior, his brethren and the Shrieues,
Although vnbidden, yet hee'l be a guest,
And haue his hand in sometimes with the best.
And whil'st he liues, note how he takes degree,
Newgate's his hall, at Tyburne he's made free:
Where commonly it so falls out with him,
He dyes in perfect health, sound winde and limbe,
He in a Coaches elder brother rides,
And when his soule and cordes from each diuides,
He foules no sheets nor any Physicke takes,
But like a Bird inth'ayre an end he makes:
And such an end I wish they all may haue,
And all that loue a shifting Cutpurse knaue,
For they are Cormorants wheresoere they haunt,
Vntill the Gallowes proues their Cormorant.
(Although he be no Merchant) much he ventures.
And though he be a noted coward, yet
Most valiantly he doth his liuing get.
He hath no weapon but a curtoll knife.
Wherewith for what he hath he hazards life.
East Indian Merchants crosse the raging Floods,
And in their ventering, venter but their goods:
When as themselues at hope securely sleepe,
And neuer plow the dangerous Ocean deepe,
If they doe lose by Pirates, tempests, rocks,
'Tis but a Fleabite to their wealthy stockes:
Whilst the poore Curpurse day and night doth toile,
Watches and wardes, and doth himselfe turmoile:
Oft cuts a purse before the Sessions barre,
Whilst others for their liues a pleading are,
To Sturbridge Faire, or vnto Bristoll ambles
In ieopardie he for his liuing rambles,
And what he gets he doth not beg or borrow,
Ventures his necke, and there's an end, hang sorrow.
Whilst midst his perils he doth drinke and sing,
And hath more purse-bearers then any King,
Liues like a Gentleman by sleight of hand,
Can play the Foist, the Nip, the Stale, the Stand.
The Snap, the Curb, the Crosbite, Warpe and Lift,
Decoy, prig, Cheat, (all for a hanging shift.)
Still valiant where he comes, and free from care,
And dares the stockes, the Whip, the Jaile out-dare.
Speakes the braue canting tongue, lyes with his dell,
Or pad, or doxi, or his bonny Nell,
And liues as merry as the day is long,
In scorne of Tyburne, or the ropes dingdong,
But now a iest or two to minde I call,
Which to this function lately did befall:
A Cutpurse standing in a market-towne,
As for his prey his eyes scowld vp and downe,
At last he shoulders neare a Country Lasse,
And cut her purse as by her he did passe.
Shee spide and caught him, and began to raue,
Call'd him rogue, rascall, villeyne, thiefe and slaue.
Gep with a pox, the Cutpurse then replide,
Are you so fine, you can no iesting bide,
I'ue iested more with forty honest men,
So with a moraine take your purse agen.
Another sattin Cutpurse dawbd with lace,
A Country Gentleman for's purse did chase,
On whom a blew-coat Seruingman did wait,
And passing through a narrow obscure strait,
The thieuing knaue the purse he nimbly nims,
And like a land-sharke thence by Land he swims.
The Seruingman perceiu'd the Cutpurse tricke,
Said nought, but dogges him through thin and thick,
Vntill the thiefe suppos'd the coast was cleare,
As he was pissing Blew-coat cut off's eare.
The Cutpurse madly gins to sweare and curse,
The other said, giue me my Masters purse,
Which you stole lately from his pocket, then
There's no wrong done, but here's your eare agen
4
I say he is a man of action still,
Waites on Ambassadors that comes and goes,
Attends at Tiltings and tryumphant showes
At Westminster he still attendance giues,
On my Lord Maior, his brethren and the Shrieues,
Although vnbidden, yet hee'l be a guest,
And haue his hand in sometimes with the best.
And whil'st he liues, note how he takes degree,
Newgate's his hall, at Tyburne he's made free:
Where commonly it so falls out with him,
He dyes in perfect health, sound winde and limbe,
He in a Coaches elder brother rides,
And when his soule and cordes from each diuides,
He foules no sheets nor any Physicke takes,
But like a Bird inth'ayre an end he makes:
And such an end I wish they all may haue,
And all that loue a shifting Cutpurse knaue,
For they are Cormorants wheresoere they haunt,
Vntill the Gallowes proues their Cormorant.
| All the workes of Iohn Taylor the Water-Poet | |