Longer his lifes thread might have been,
But death with’s sheares came him between,
Wound up his bottom, bound his feet,
And sow’d him up in’s winding-sheet.
My Mistress not continuing the Trade, I was turned over to a Baker, at which I rejoyced exceedingly, being heartily desirous to be dealing with Belly-timber, remembring how I was full fed when as I lived before with the Cook. Here I found the Maxim to be still true, that there is knavery in all Trades, for as my last Master theived from peoples backs, so this robbed their bellies; and was in one sort worse than a Taylor, for Taylors commonly filch their Cabadge only from the rich, who can the better spare it; but a Baker by making his bread lesser than it should be, stealeth it out of the poor peoples bellies, for doing which he deserveth the same fate to attend on him as did on Pharaohs Baker, viz. hanging; or at leastwise to look through an oaken planck, and shew the people a knaves head.
He would be sure to be in fee with the Clark of the Market, and pretended great love to him, though he hated him as his Executioner. By this meanes he had always timely notice of my Lord Mayors going about, when he would be sure to have his bread full weight stand at his window; and if at any time he chanc’d to be catcht, oh how he would repine at his forc’d charity, to see his bread given away to the poor, hating Justice it self for the weigh-scales sake, though it did the Beggars as much good as their dinner, to see his basket sent to the prison.
When we had any stale mouldy bread, such as we could not sell our selves, or was returned us again by our customers, we used to soak it in water, and so mould it up again in our dough, which in Summer time at four days end would roap so, that if you pul’d it in pieces it would appear as if it were all Cobwebs, which made us always to sell such bread new. Now what other Knaveries he used in his trade, I was not there long enough to know them: for because I used to forget to rise betimes in a morning, my Master would remember me with a good ashen wand which he always kept in store by him, wherewith he would beat me as your Sea-men do Stock-fish, in so much that my flesh had on it all the colours in the Rain-bow, viz. black, blew, green, red, yellow, white, &c. above all things in the world I liked not beating, wherefore I resolved to march off, yet before I went I purposed to be in part revenged on him for those many blows he had given me. Now so it was that he lay above stairs, and I below, and when he came down, if he found me not up and about my business, he would so rib-roast me, that I could have felt no cold although it had been frosty weather. Against that morning I intended to be gone, I had parched some pease in the oven, that they were almost as hard as leaden bullets; them did I strow here and there upon the stairs against my Masters coming down, and so having put up my things, and made my self ready, I staid expecting what the event would be, anon my Master called me at the stairs head, I heard him very well, but made him no answer, wherefore he supposing I was asleep, was coming down to give me the bastinado, when treading on the pease his heels flew up, and down he came tumbling from the top to the bottom, swearing all the way he was falling, that this damn’d Rogue (meaning me) intended for to break his neck; I hearing him to thunder so loud, thought it would lighten upon my Jacket presently, and therefore to prevent it, I opened the door and shewed him a fair payr of heels, leaving him sore bruised with his fall, and more vexed that he could not come at me, to revenge himself of me for the same.
