The Court of Conscience or Dick Whippers Sessions With the order of his arraigning and punishing of many notorious, dissembling, wicked, and vitious liuers in this age. By Richard West |
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Proud Knaue. |
 | The Court of Conscience or Dick Whippers Sessions |  |
Proud Knaue.
Oat-meale mouthd gentlemā, get vp your surly Asse,
Iohn Suck-egges picture proud, & yet a noddy:
Y'ar stout in heart, behold but in a glasse,
Your Coxcombks picture, and phantastick body.
Y'ar so befashion'd I know not where to find you,
Ere long I trow youl' weare your nose behind you.
Iohn Suck-egges picture proud, & yet a noddy:
Y'ar stout in heart, behold but in a glasse,
Your Coxcombks picture, and phantastick body.
Y'ar so befashion'd I know not where to find you,
Ere long I trow youl' weare your nose behind you.
All that thou hast in money and in lands,
Tom Taylor seizeth on to please a goose:
Poules alley Meg, then she comes in for bands
And cuffes new fashion'd, turne but Margaret loose,
For French and Dutch, for Spanish and Polony,
Sheel' set you forth in coxcombes shape for money
Tom Taylor seizeth on to please a goose:
Poules alley Meg, then she comes in for bands
And cuffes new fashion'd, turne but Margaret loose,
For French and Dutch, for Spanish and Polony,
Sheel' set you forth in coxcombes shape for money
Then for a Fether to Black-Friers gate,
A swordand dagger, bootes & ringling spurres,
Within a weeke the fashion alters, straight
Off goes that gallant suite among the curres,
Why what carest thou, thy father hath good lands
The rent but yester-night came to thy hands.
A swordand dagger, bootes & ringling spurres,
Within a weeke the fashion alters, straight
Off goes that gallant suite among the curres,
Why what carest thou, thy father hath good lands
The rent but yester-night came to thy hands.
Yet th'art borne but meanly in degree,
Silly poore Webb, thy fathers goes to plow,
All he can get he's faine to lay on thee;
Another gallant suite a making now:
Worke maister Taylor, pray you worke a pace,
And with my whip the whilst Ile set on lace.
Silly poore Webb, thy fathers goes to plow,
All he can get he's faine to lay on thee;
Another gallant suite a making now:
Worke maister Taylor, pray you worke a pace,
And with my whip the whilst Ile set on lace.
| The Court of Conscience or Dick Whippers Sessions | |