 | [A paire of spy-knaves] |  |
As wise as Iohn of Gotehams Calfe:
Or, This fellow brought his Hogges to a faire Market.
Hvmphrey wou'd vp to London vorty mile,He vow'd to trauell ouer Bridge and Stile,
To zee the Zitty, though his Father pray him,
And Mother weepe, and Sisters cry to stay him.
There's no perswading Humphrey bide at home,
He will to London spite of cocke and's combe,
When parents see nothing preuaile they can,
They point Tom Carter for his Seruingman,
And stocke their Yongman with good store of crownes,
Who taking leaue with all his fellow clownes,
Sets forward brauely like the Wandring Knight,
And could not take contentment day nor night,
Vntill the Citie skirts he ouertooke,
Where, as about for harbour he did looke,
To drinke a Health backe, for their townes carouse,
They cast their Anker at a bawdy-house,
The Punkes perceiuing they of prey were sped:
Intreated them to sup, and take a bed
Which Humphrey tooke most kinde. Oh Tom (quoth he)
Heere's Gentlewomen of good breed, I see,
A man shall stay at home with Sisse and Ione
And all his life haue no such kindnes showne,
At euery word w' are Gentlemen, hang gold,
Weele make it good, while fathers bags doe hold:
Thou shalt ride downe (braue Tom) and fetch vp more.
Thus hauing lauishd there, away they goe:
But in short time the matter fell out so,
The country Gull, with Punks was so bepayd,
That he must needs seeke out for Surgeons ayde,
A burning griefe did ouertake at last,
And he must sweat to thinke on what was past,
Take vp his Chamber and a while lye in.
Oh Pockey griefe to thinke where he had bin!
But Master Mendall did so hold him too't,
That in short time he got him vp on foot,
VVhen Humphrey crept no sooner out of doore,
But he would raile, reuenge vpon his whore,
And to the place of foule confusion went:
His Punke came to him with faire complement
Demanding what hee'le giue her? Giue, quoth he?
Thou damned VVhore hast giuen the Pox to me.
Quoth she, Thou lyest, and doest abuse me base
I will disproue thy speeches to thy face:
I giue the Pox? 'Tis false, I he're gaue any:
I sold the Pox, thou bought'st it with thy penny:
VVe made a bargaine, I had thy French gold,
And thou my French disease, full bought and sold.
Oh 'bomination, Tom, let's home, I vow,
VVe brought our Hogs to a faire Market now.
No longer (Gentlemen) we will remaine:
Goe thou to Cart, and I'le to Plow againe.
But Tom, sweet Tom, in any case be trusty,
Neuer tell Father I haue bin so lusty,
Nor tell our country VVenches I beseech,
VVhat I haue brought from London in my breech:
As euer was any poore mothers sonne.
| [A paire of spy-knaves] | |