 | The knave of Clubbs |  |
Master make-shift.
A needy Poet of a poore complexion,Whose purse was sick of very long infection,
That writ (as beggers craue an almes) for need
Oft wanting meat when he would gladly feed
(Who when he trauaild to Parnassus hill,
Was much behoulding to Tobacco still,
For how so'ere his chimney wanted fire,
His nose was smoaking to his hearts desire)
A dinner was prepar'd exceeding good,
For diuers Gentlemen, of which kind crewe,
Some halfe a dosen very friends he knewe:
So bouldly did intrude into the place,
With hungry stomack, and a brasen face,
They welcome him, and kindly doe intreat
To doe as they doe, sit him downe and eat.
Which wholesome word no repetition needes,
For like a starueling, he falls to and feedes:
Little discourse long time he could afford,
But answeres true sir vnto euery word:
Tis right forsooth, and so againe crammes in,
As if a fortnight he had fasting bin:
Plying his victualls thus an hower at least,
Like vnto VVoolnor that same rauening beast,
his pudding house at length began to swell,
And he tooke leisure some strange lies to tell;
And those he sweares vnto by cups of wine,
(For now to liquor he doth whole incline)
VVell, growing late they for a reckning call,
And Vintners boy brings vp a bill of all,
So euery man doth cast his mony downe,
Ten groats, three shillings, other some a crowne:
VVhich all vpon a trencher was conuaid
To Poet pennilesse, and him they praid
I doe intreat you all to pardon me,
I'le spend my crowne, and put his hand in 'shose,
Where not a penny could be found God knowes
while still they swear that he shall make the shot:
At last the mony in his hands he got,
And rising, to the fidlers turnes about,
Come on (qd. he) what new thing is come out?
Sure Gentleman (said they) we haue not any,
Then sing me, I could fancie louely Nanny,
(and here is for you, I'le but goe and leake,
Call for a pot: there's not a rogue will speake)
So takes his cloake and downe the staires away,
With all the mony was laid downe to pay:
The Gentlemen suspecting no such thing,
Discourse together, and the fidlers sing,
Vntill they misse their Poet ouer long,
Who tooke his leaue most kindly with a song.
They knock, and call, and send to seeke below
But whats become of him there's none doth know
Hee's gone to walke his dinner to disgest,
Of all the mony they laid downe possest,
Some fifty shillings he had gotten cleare,
In curtesie for all the great good cheare.
Now euery man must to his purse againe,
In Vintners debt, and fidlers, they remaine.
Wishing the reckning would make thin-gut fat.
A pox vpon this Poet one did curse,
He hath not left a penny in my purse:
Fiue shillings not a farthing more I had,
And thus be-guld, doth make me almost mad,
With all my heart I'le spend a crowne, or twaine,
To meete the rascall in my dish againe:
I would be-stab his skin like doublet cuts,
And garter vp his stockins with his guts,
Then down the staires the villaine should be tost,
Like to a foot-ball in a winters frost.
Gentlemen saies another, silence now,
T'is but a folly to protest and vow,
Although plaine-dealing be a Iewell still,
We must vse double-dealing gainst our will,
And pay our shot againe was paid before,
For yet you see we stand vpon the score:
We are well seru'd if this be rightly scand,
To put our reckning into Make-shifts hand,
But laugh it out, least we be laught to scorne,
Good wits are worthy to haue charges borne.
| The knave of Clubbs | |