A history of vagrants and vagrancy, and beggars and begging; . I take my Crutch And rouse from my Couch,Whereas I lay still doe I cry, &c. Now like a wandring Souldier(That has ith Warres bin niaymed, With the shot of a Gunne) To Gallants I runneAnd begg Sir helpe the lamed,I am a poore old Souldier,And better times once viewed, Though bare now I goe, Yet many a foe,By me hath bin therefore I cry, &c. Although I nere was further Then Kentish Street in Southwarke, Xor ere did see A BatteryMade against any Bulwarke,But with my Trulls and Doxes,Lay in some corner lurking,


A history of vagrants and vagrancy, and beggars and begging; . I take my Crutch And rouse from my Couch,Whereas I lay still doe I cry, &c. Now like a wandring Souldier(That has ith Warres bin niaymed, With the shot of a Gunne) To Gallants I runneAnd begg Sir helpe the lamed,I am a poore old Souldier,And better times once viewed, Though bare now I goe, Yet many a foe,By me hath bin therefore I cry, &c. Although I nere was further Then Kentish Street in Southwarke, Xor ere did see A BatteryMade against any Bulwarke,But with my Trulls and Doxes,Lay in some corner lurking, And nere went abroad But to beg on the road,To keepe my selfe from alwaies to cry, &c. Anon Im like a savior, And weare old Canvas cloathing, And then I say The Dunkerks1 away,Tooke all and left me nothing :Sixe ships set all upon us,Gainst which wee bravely venturd, And long withstood, Yet could doe no good,Our ship at length they enterd. 1 The privateers of Dunkirk were notorious for preying on English merchantships at this THE CUNNING NORTHERN BEGGAR (circa 1635) AND BEGGAKS AND BEGGING. And therefore I cry good your worship good sirBestow one poore denier sir :Which when Ive got,At the Pipe and Pot, &c. The second part. To the same tune. Sometime I like a CripleUpon the ground lye crawling, For money I begge, As wanting a leggeTo beare my corps from falling,Then seeme I weake of body,And long t have been diseased,And make complaint,As ready to faint,And of my griefes increased,And faintly I cry good your worship good sir,Bestow one poore denier sir, Which when Ive got, At the Pipe and Pot,I soone will it casheere sir. My flesh I so can temper,That it shall seeme to feister, And looke all ore Like a raw sore,Whereon I sticke a blood I daub my face then,To faigne the falling sicknesse, That in every place They pitty my case,As if it came through weakenesse,And then I doe cry, &c. Then as if my sight I wanted,A Boy doth walke beside me, Or el


Size: 1378px × 1813px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No

Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, booksubjectbegging, bookyear1887