All sorts of men, both far and near, Wherever I resorted, My fellowship esteemed dear, Because I was reported To be a man of noted fame, Some said I well deserved the same, Thus have I got a gallant name, All parts of London I have tried, They bring me in for to behold Their shops of silver and of gold, There might I choose what wares I would, For my contentment once a day I walk for recreation, Through Paul's, Ludgate, and Fleet-street gay, To Temple, Strand, and New Exchange, But God a mercy penny. I have been in Westminster Hall, SECOND PART. The famous abbey I have seen, Bear Garden, when I do frequent, Or the Globe on the Bank-side, They afford to me most rare content, As I full oft have tried : The best pastime that they can make, They instantly will undertake, For my delight and pleasure sake, But God a mercy penny. In every place whereas I came, Both tapsters, cooks, and vintners fine, Good fellows company I used, The painted drabs I still refus'd, And wenches that are common ; Their luring looks I do despise, They seem so loathsome in my eyes, One evening as I past along, May after chance to catch the scab, No pandar, bawd, nor painted drab Shall gull me of a penny. But curled hair and painted face I ever have refrained, All those that get their living base, My conscience is not stain'd with pitch, Yet will I never niggard be, And eke dispense some of my store, Thus to conclude as I began Draw money for to buy me beer, The price of it is not too dear, 'T will cost you but a penny. wymi LXXVII. “A NEW BALLAD, INTITULED, A Warning to Youth, shewing the lewd life of a Marchant's Sonne of London, and the miserie that at the last he sustained by his notoriousnesse.' To the tune of Lord Darley. [From a black letter copy printed for the Assigns of Symcocke.] IN London dwelt a merchant man, That left unto his son A thousand pounds in land a year, With coffers cramm'd with golden crowns, Most like a father kind, To have him follow his own steps, And bear the self same mind. |