Ragged, and Torne, and True.
Or▪ the poore mans Resoltion,
To the tune of Old Simon the King.
I Am a poore man, God knowes,
and all my neighbours can tell.
I want both money and clothes,
and yet I liue wondrous well:
I haue a contented mind,
and a heart to beare out all,
Though Fortune (being vnkind)
hath giuen me substance small.
Then hang up sorrow and care,
it neuer shall make me rue:
What though my backe goes bare?
I'me ragged, and torne, and true.
I scorne to liue by the shift,
or by any sinister dealing.
Ile flatter no man for a gift,
nor will I get money by stealing.
Ile be no Knight of the Post;
to sell my soule for a bribe,
Though all my fortunes be crost,
yet I scorne the Cheaters tribe.
Then hang vp sorrow and care,
it neuer shall make me rue,
What though my cloake be thred-bare,
Ime ragged, and torne, and true.
A Boote of Spanish leather.
I haue seene set fast in the stockes,
Exposed to wind and weather,
and foule reproach and mocke [...].
While I in my poore ragges,
can passe at liberty still:
O fie on these brawling bragges,
when the money is gotten so ill.
O fie on these pelfering knaues,
I scorne to be of that crue.
They steale to make themselues braue,
Ime ragged, and torne, and true.
I haue seene a Gallant goe by,
woth all his wealth on his backe,
He lookt as loftily,
as one that did nothing lacke,
And yet he hath no meanes,
but what he gets by the sword,
Which he consume on Queanes,
for it thriues not take my word:
Oh fie on these high-way theeues,
the Gallowes will be then due:
Though my doublet be rent ith sleeues
Ime ragged, and torne, and true.
The Second Part.
To the Same Tune.
SOme do themselues maintaine,
with playing at cardes and Dice,
O fie on that lawlesse gaine,
got by such wicked vice:
They coozen poore Countrey-men,
with their delusions vilde,
Yet it happens now and then,
that they are themselues beguilde:
For if they be caught in a snare,
then the Pillery clames its due,
Though my Ierkin be worne and bare
Ime ragged, and torne, and true.
I haue seene some gallants braue,
vp Holborne ride in a Cart,
Which sight much sorrow gaue
to euery tender heart:
Then haue I said to my selfe,
what pity is it for this,
That any man for pelfe,
should do such a foule amisse:
O fie on deceit and theft,
it makes men at the last rue,
Though I haue but little left,
Ime ragged, and torne, and true.
The Pick-pockets in a throng,
at a Market or a Faire.
Will try whose purse is strong
that they may the money share:
But if they are caught ith action,
they are carried away in disgrace.
Either to the house of Correction,
or else to a worser place:
O fie on these pelfering Theeues,
the Gallowes will be their due,
What need I suee for a repreeue [...],
Ime ragged, and torne, and true.
The Hostler, to maintaine
himselfe with money ins purse,
Approues the Prouerbe true,
and sayes Gramercy Horse:
He robs the trauelling beast,
that cannot divulge his ill,
He steales a whole handfull at least,
from euery halfe peck he should fill,
O fie on those coozening scabs,
that rob the poore Iades of their due
I scorne all theeues and Drabs:
Ime ragged, and torne, and true.
Tis good to be honest and iust,
though a man be neuer so poore,
False dealers are still in mistrust,
thare afraid of the officers doore:
Their conscience doth them accuse
and the quake at the noise of a bush:
While he chat doth no man abuse,
For the [...]aw needs nat care a rush,
Then welfare the man that can say,
I pay euery man his due,
Although I go poore in aray,
Ime ragged, and torne, and true.
FINIS.
Printed by the Assignes of Thomas Symcocke.