 | To Rash Iudgement, Tom Foole, and his fellowes |  |
A needy knaue shootes at a gredy knaue.
A miserable wretched Widdower,Did with a friend about a match conferre;
Who in his eares this pleasing speach did sound,
I know a Widdow worth a thousand pound:
And for a hundred I will helpe thee to-her,
Euen ready to thy hand, my selfe will wooe-her.
The greedy Knaue beleeuing this was true,
Did seale a bond, to make a hundreth due:
And quickly gott the Widdow; whose estate
Was not two hundred, houshuold stuffe and plate:
The Bridgrome seeing this, at hart was pang'd,
And look'd like one that had bin lately hang'd;
Swearing the maker of this beggers match,
Should not a penny foorth his clutches catch.
The needy Knaue audatiously reply'd,
Good Sir I haue your bond, that shall be try'd:
Proue I am bound to make the Widdow ritch,
For I will proue you bound to pay so much:
And thus we leaue the Knaues at law togeather,
Till Goose betweene them be not worth a feather.
| To Rash Iudgement, Tom Foole, and his fellowes | |