Why, ’tis only a Guinea, you can’t think it lost.
Since Supper and Lodging, and Mistress and all,
Nay, and Maid, if you like her, are ready at Call.
The Thief and the Doctor.
A Thief a Parson stopp’d on the Highway,
And having bid him stand, next bid him pay.
The Parson drew his sword, for well he durst,
And quickly put his Foe unto the Worst.
Sir, (quoth the Thief) I by your Habit see,
You are a Churchman, and Debate should flee,