For, all my other faults, which may bee more and greater than I see, read, I am heartily sorry for them, before I know them, lest I should forget it after; and humbly crave pardon at adventure, having nothing that I can think of, to plead but this,
Quisquis inops peccat, minor est reus. Petron.
Poore Coblers well may fault it now and then,
They'r ever mending faults for other men.
And if I worke for nought, why is it said,
This bungling Cobler would be soundly paid?
So farewell England old
If evill times ensue,
Let good men come to us,
Wee'l welcome them to New.
And farewell Honor'd Friends,
If happy dayes ensue,
You'l have some Guests from hence,
Pray welcome us to you.
And farewell simple world,
If thou'lt thy Cranium mend,
There is my Last and All,
And a Shoem-Akers
END.
Postscript.
This honest Cobler has done what he might:
That Statesmen in their Shoes might walk upright.
But rotten Shoes of Spannish running-leather:
No Coblers skill, can stitch them strong together.
It were best to cast such rotten stuff away:
And look for that, that never will decay.