Cries not till death, and then but gives a groane,
To leave his silver, and his golden bags,
Then gapes and dies, and with a little moane
Is lapped up in a few rotten ragges:
What will this Clunch fist leave upon his grave?
Here lies the Carkasse of a wretched Knave.
[4.] An Arch Wag speaking of the late dreadful Fire of London, said Cannon Street roared, Wood Street was burnt to Ashes, Bread Street was burnt to a Coal, Pie Corner was over bak'd and Snow hill melted down.
[4.] A Highway man being to be hang'd in a Country Town, Order was sent to the Carpenter to make a Gallows; which he neglecting to do, the Execution was forc'd to be defer'd, for which the Judge was not a little angry, who sending for the Carpenter, asked him why he had not done it? Why Sir, said he, I have done two or three already, but was never paid for them; but had I known it had been for your Worship, I would have left all other business to have done it.