 | The Knave of Harts |  |
A lying Knaue.
Silence a while, if you will wonders heare,Here's tongue will tickle any itching eare:
A Linguist that discourseth passing well,
So full of newes, his braines and browes do swell:
He will your admiration entertaine
VVith secret things, from Rome, from France and Spaine,
Barbary, Turkey, Indies East, and VVest:
He hath all King domes businesse in his brest.
VVhats done aboue ground, he doth certain know it,
And on his friends most franckly will bestow it:
For, at your hands, he lookes to be no winner,
Except some breakfast, if you please, or dinner.
Or, lend him fortie shillings for a weeke,
(VVith trauellers, monie may be to seeke)
If you can spare him such a trifling summe,
You shall haue newes in pawne, til payment come,
And rare inuentions that were neuer found,
Shall yeeld the Author many a thousand pound:
This Trade the Diuell did for's sonnes deuise,
To picke a liuing out of damned lyes.
| The Knave of Harts | |