Ten miles vnto a Market.
I runne to meet a Miser,
Then in a throng, I nip his Bung, [5]
And the partie ne'er the wiser.
Still doe I cry, etc.
IV
My dainty Dals, my Doxis, [6]
Whene'er they see me lacking,
Without delay, poore wretches they
Will set their Duds a packing. [7]
Still doe I cry, etc.
V
I pay for what I call for,
And so perforce it must be,
For as yet I can, not know the man,
Nor Oastis that will trust me.
Still doe I cry, etc.
VI
If any giue me lodging,
A courteous Knaue they find me,
For in their bed, aliue or dead,
I leave some Lice behind me.
Still doe I cry, etc.
VII
If a Gentry Coue be comming, [8]
Then straight it is our fashion,
My Legge I tie, close to my thigh,
To moue him to compassion.
Still doe I cry, etc.
VIII
My doublet sleeue hangs emptie,
And for to begge the bolder,
For meate and drinke mine arme I shrinke,
Vp close vnto my shoulder.
Still doe I cry, etc.