The Bellman of London. BRINGING TO LIGHT THE MOST NOTORIOUS Villainies that are now practised in the Kingdom. Profitable for Gentlemen, Lawyers, Merchants, Citizens, Farmers, Masters of Households, and all sorts of servants to mark, and delightful for all men to read.  
Lege, Perlege, Relege.  
The third impression, with new additions.  
Printed at London for Nathaniel Butter. 1608.   

A Table of the principal matters contained in this Book.  
A Discovery of all the idle Vagabonds in England: their conditions: their Laws amongst themselves: their degrees and orders: their meetings and their manners of living, both men and women.  
A discovery of certain secret villainies, which borrow to themselves the names of Laws.  
AS 

Cheating Law.  
Vincents Law.  
Courbing Law.  
Lifting Law.  
Sacking Law.  
Five jumps at Leapfrog.  
Bernard's Law.  
The black Art.  
Prigging Law.  
High Law.  
Figging Law.     

The poor BELLMAN of London, To all those that either by office are sworn to punish, or in their own love to virtue, wish to have the disorders of a state amended, humbly dedicateth these his discoveries.  
AT your Gates the Bellman of London beateth, to awaken your eyes, to look back after certain Grand and common abuses, that daily walk by you, keeping aloof (in corners) out of the reach of Law. It must be the hand of your authority that must fetch in these Rebels to the weal-public, and your arm that must strike them: I choose you as Patrons, (not to my book) but to defend me from those Monsters, whose dens I break open in this my discovery. More dangerous they are to a State, than a Civil war, because their villainies are more subtle and more enduring. The Bellman not withstanding hath played the Owl (who is the Emblem of wisdom) for sleeping in the day, as abhorring to behold the impieties of this last and worst age of the world: In the night therefore hath he stolen forth, and with the help of his Lantern and Candle (by which is figured circumspection) hath he brought to light, that brood of mischief, which is engendered in the womb of darkness. Amonstrous birth is it, and therefore worthy to be looked at: from monstrous parents doth it proceed, and therefore the sight of it to be fearful. But of such rare temper are your eyes, that (as if they had sunbeams in them) they are able to exhale up all these contagious breaths which poison a kingdom, & so to spe●se them into thin air, that they shall utterly vanish, and be no more offensive. In this black shore of mischief have I sailed along, and been a faithful discoverer of all the creeks, rocks, gulfs and quicksands, in and about it: Be you therefore as second adventurers, and furnish men armed with justice, and well furnished in all points, with a desire to conquer these Savages, & send them to set strong and fearful footing amongst them. It shall be honour to your selves, and them, and a rich benefit to the Republik wherein you live. For my own part I vow, that as I dedicate these my labours to your hands, so will I devote my life to the safety of my Country, in defending her from these Serpents: I will waste out mine eyes with my candles, and watch from midnight till the rising up of the morning: my Bell shall ever be ringing, and that faithful servant of mine (the Dog that follows me) be ever biting of these wild beasts, till they be all driven into one heard, and so hunted into the toils of the Law. Accept therefore of this Night-prize (my Grave and worthy Patrons) drawn rudely, and presented boldly, because I know the colours laid upon it, are not counterfeit as those of borrowed beauties: but this is a picture of Villainy, drawn to the life, of purpose that life might be drawn from it. None can be offended with it but such as are guilty to themselves, that they are such as are enrolled in this Muster book, for whose anger, or whose stab, I care not. At no man's bosom do I particularly strike, but only at the body of Vice in General: if my manner of Fight (with these dangerous Masters of the Ignoblest Science that ever was in any kingdom) do get but plause, the Bellman shall shortly bid you to another Prize, where you shall see him play at other kind of weapons.  
Devoted night and day yours, The Bellman of London.   

THE Belman of London. Discoveing the most notable villainies now in the Kingdom.  
THe world at the first was made of nothing and shall a the last be cousumed to nothing. The fashion of it is round, for as a Circle is the most perfect figure, So this, the rarest and most absolute frame, that ever the Creator made. It was indeed (excepting that which was like himself) his Master piece.  
In this great world did he place a little world (and as the lesser wheels in a clock being set a going, give motion to the greatest, and serve them as guides) So that little world (called man) doth by his Art, office and power, control the greater: yet is there such a harmony in both their motions, that though in quantity they differ far, they agree in quality: and though the one was made somewhat before the other, yet are they so like, that they seem to be instruments belonging to one Engine. For man is made up by the mixture of four complexions, Blood, Phlegm, Choler, and Melancholy▪ The world is a ball made up of four Elements, Water, Air, Earth, and Fire, yea these very Elements have likewise parts in him. The world is circular, So is man, for let him stand upright and extend forth his arms to the length, A line drawn from his navel to all the utmost limits of his body, makes his body Orbiculer. And as man hath four ages, Infancy, Childhood, Youth and old age: so hath the world, in which four measures of time are filled out, the risings and fall, the growings up and the witherings both of the one and the other.  
The infancy of the world was the golden age (not so called because men had at that time more gold than they have now, 
Description of the 4 ages of the world.  (for not to deceive you, there was (then) not a piece of gold stirring) but as this sacred metal is the purest that the earth can bring forth, so the golden age was the best of all the four and the most blessed: For then all the earth was but one garden, where (without planting) grew all sorts of trees, 
Golden age.  which (without grafting) carried all sorts of fruits: the ground was not wrinkled with ●urrowes, for there were then no Ploughmen to misuse her beauty: the Sea was not rugged, for there were then no Ships to bruise her body: there were no countries, for there were no Kings: all the world was but one Land, and all the people in it but one Nation: who knew not how to obey any, because none amongst them had a desire to command: their houses were the shadowy coverings of trees, & their stateliest buildings were graven bows, justice in those days had eyes, and Pity ears, for none could complain of wrong and not be relieved, nor any cry out for want, who were not satisfied: Oppression was either then not borne, or if she were in the world she had no hands to strike, or if she did strike, the blows were no other than such as when with a sword we cut the water, they did no harm. The Law (in this golden time) got no gold: there were neither Counsellors to plead, nor Attorneys to plod up and down: the name of a Fee-taking was not known: there were no Clients, and therefore no Courts kept, neither Term nor Uacations: what a merry world was this? The frozen nails of winter, nor the pestilent scorching breath of Summer did not then destroy the fruits of the earth: there was no Autumn, for there was no year; the whole year● was but one month, and that month was ever, nay, it was a continual Spring, so that man (the Emperor of earth) grew proud, insolent, and saucy: the fullness of this happiness making him swell into such a disdain of the gods, that he preferred the vizeroy-ship of this lower kingdom (bestowed upon him by them) and the pleasures upon which he surfeited here, before those felicities which they enjoyed above. Whereupon as men in these days, so did the Gods in those, hold up to themselves that Golden age: they took it away from mortals, because they were unworthy of it, And on a sudden changed it into white money, so that the Golden age became the Silver.  
As those two metals (of Gold and Silver) are in dgrees of baseness one to another, So were those two ages in degrees of Badness. The Silver age 
The silver age  was worse than the former: the change of metals brought in the change of manners: for now men plucked feathers from the wings of Ambition, and with those plumes laboured to fly one above another: their Brains now wrought day and night how to frame tools to cut down trees, of those trees to build houses, of those houses to set up Cities, of those Cities to raise Kingdoms, and from those Kingdoms to derive soverainties. In this Siluer-Cradle of the world, Arts were borne, and Trades put to nurse Time having now got silver hairs on his head (but as yet it was not bald) provided himself of a sickle and a glass full●of sand: with the one did he teach men how to divide the Seasons, into quarters, months, weeks, days and hours: with the other, how to cut down Corn: For four Princes did now by course rule the year: 
4▪ seasons of the year.  two of them mild, two of them cruel: two of them were liberal, full of mirth, full of majesty, full of beauty: the other two were hard favoured, dogged, addicted to melancholy, to diseases, to hate mankind, to hurt the earth, and to rob both of all, that the former two had given to them. This Siluer-age of the world, was the world's Childhood, and therefore like a child it grew wayward and inconstant: It was apt to fall out, and soon to be pleased: as you may see the whel●s of Lions wanton at first and ready to play even with infants, and not to harm them, with whom afterwards armed men dare not encounter, So in this second play upon the great Theatre of the world, men showed like shepherds (Simple) they had power to do hurt, but not a will to do it: a care they had more to provide for themselves, then to injury others. If this siluerthred of man's life had still been spun, man had lived in a reasonable happiness, But the Fates (envious ever of his good) cut it off: and at the last, instead of this silver mask which the world wore, 
The Brazen age.  did she (being turned strumpet) put on a Brazen-face. Having that on, she grew impudent lascivious and lustful, yet was she not altogether past modesty, but fell into the company of Vices, and so at length into a love of them, being rather deceived with the goodly shapes they carried, then delighted with their doings.  
This was the lusty age of the world, when men knew their strengths, and had desire to try them: their veins were full of blood and itched to be let out: but war was not yet begotten, and as in a civil kingdom▪ when Sedition is devising plots how to set the state in an uproar, she looketh wildly, walks distractedly, and speaks ambiguously: her very face serving as a Calendar, wherein men may read what storms shall follow, the time when they shall fall, or how, or where, is not set down. So at this brazen & third round table of the world (who in her bosom was hatching us countries) did men sit with countenances, wherein were engraven the pictures of troubled thoughts, which told that mischiefs were apt to breed there, though to be borne in another Age. The winds did now but begin to shake the earth: the shipwreck which it should suffer, was to be afterwards: so long therefore as the world rested upon this brazen pillar, men did but whet their swords: there was an Iron gate to be opened, at which War should issue forth, and then was the time to strike.  
Quickly therefore was this circle of Brass broken in pieces, 
The Iron age  the glass of this Third age was soon run out, and in the place of it was the Iron age turned up, the Iron age is that wherein we live: it is the old age of the world that must bring the world to a grave: it is the last of four, and the worst of four: it is the basest, yet the proudest. In this Iron bed of Time what unnatural ingendering, what preposterous births have there been? Devotion hath lain with Hypocrisy, Zeal with Coldness, ●ustice with Par●ialitie, Valour with Fury, Learning with Pride, Pride with Ambition, Ambition with Treason, and Treason with Murder.  
In this bed was Avarice borne, monstrous in shape, and devilish in conditions: her fingers are hooks, which Usurers still are filing to keep more sharp than tailors needles. In one hand she holds a limebush, in the other a net, a company of old rednosd fellows (of all trades some) spreading bird-lime continually upon the one, and with strong cords still piecing up the other. She whispers every morning in a Lawyeres ear, what she says none knows, but some think she teaches him his prayers: she goes attired like a Broker's wife, for her apparel is made of several parcels, which by violence she hath torn from sundry backs: She feeds upon gold as the Estredge doth upon Iron, and drinks silver faster down her crane-like throat than an English Cockatrice doth Hippocras.  
With this ill-favoured hag came envy into the world: they both are twins, and both look like Starvelings: in bodies they somewhat resemble one another, but differ in minds, for the one covets to have all to herself, the other cares for nothing: but pines away to the bare bones, with very grief and madness, to see another enjoy any thing.  
The last of these two furies (Envy) was begotten by a player, & that makes her so lean: the other by a Dutch Burger, and that makes her have such a belly. Now was the time (whilst this Yron-milles of mischief were going) for war to set at the anvil, whilst swords, Bills, Pole-axes, Partisans, Guns etc. were forged to destroy mankind: for till this rusty Iron world came up, there was not an Armourer to be had for love or money. Presently upon this, private quarrels were first picked, which afterwards burst out into open main battles, those battles haus drawn whole kingdoms into faction, and those factions like so many fires, have set the whole world in a combustion, but because Nations were so divided one from another by the Seas (which lay like bars between them) Covetousness and Ambition laid their hands together, and invented ships:  
Now was the Reverend Oak (the King of the Forest) who had stood so many years unshaken and undishonoured, laid groveling on the ground: the mountains that before were glad to be his footstools, and were even proud when he stood upright on their backs, did now send forth groans at the report of his fall.  
His Oaken brows must notwithstanding be uncrownd: his aged body dismantled of his robes, yea his very heart cloven spitefully in sunder, whilst his strong and tough ribs be pulled from his sides, to make a Pageam that shall dance on the Waters.  
And not the O●ke alone felt the misery of these great strokes, but the tall Firrhe Tree was compelled likewise to leave the woo●s, where proudly he had stood so many years, and like a Slave to follow a Sail, which w●y soever it should lead him. With these wooden Castles (which ●loated up and down like so many Towns, or rather like so many little cities full of People) was the Kingdom of the Waves besieged, her Crystal Walls battered, and her treasury rif●ed: The scaly Citizens being terrified with this boldness of mankind, as having never seen any creatures but themselves to venture into their dominions, complained to the monarch of the Deeps, who in revenge of this presumption, did not only stick Rocks in the plainest paths of his Kingdom, to make those invaders stumble at them and so to fall headlong into Hell, But also consulted and conspired with the Winds▪ to be ever working their overthrow.  
Neither was the Earth (which never before felt bruises) free from the blows and wounds even of tho●e to whom she gave nourishment.  
The World being all turned thus to Iron, men's hearts were made of the same metal, and like unnatural children misused the Mother of us all, mangling her bosom, cutting open her veins, and ripping up her very bowels, compelling her not only to give them common food to sustain them, and fruits and flowers to satisfy their lust and pleasures, But thinking that the Golden and silver worlds were hid in her entrailss, even amongst those do they barbarously rake to find riches: For this cause the Earth that at the beginning was unto us as a Mother, shows herself now as a stepdame, her bre●●s out o● which flowed (once) nothing but milk and honey to nourish us, swelleth now with rank poison to destroy us.  
But (alas) these moles are but small warts on the cheeks of this Iron World, the great blemishes that make it seem ugly are not yet discovered.  
Entering therefore into a contemplation of the changes of Time, how all things that are under the Moon are as variable as her looks are: how Goodness grows crooked, and hath almost lost her shape: how Virtue goes poorly and is not regarded: how Villany●ettes ●ettes in silks, and like a God adored: And when I consider how all the pleasures of this life are but as children's dreams, how all the glories of the world are but artificial fireworks that keep a blazing for a time, and yet die in stinking smokes and how all the labours of man are like the toiling of the winds, which strive to cast up heaps of dust, that in the end are not worth the gathering. Then even then do I grow weary of myself▪ then am I neither in love with the beauty of the Sun, neither stand I gazing at the ●auncing of the stars: I neither wonder at the 〈◊〉 measures of the clouds, the nimb●é galliards of the Water, 〈◊〉 the wanton trip of the wind 〈◊〉 delighted when the earth dresses up her h●ad with flowers, I wish myself a Bea●t, because men are so bad that Beasts do excel them in goodness, & abhor all company, because the best is but tedious, the worse loathsome, both are the destroyers of time, and both must be maintained with cost.  
Since then, that in the Noblest streams there are such Whirlpools to swallow us up, such rocks that threaten danger (if not Shipwreck,) and such Quicksands to make us sink: who would not willingly take down all the sails of his ambition, and cast anchor on a safe and retired shore, 
The praise of the country l●●e.  which is to be found in no place, if not in the Country: O blessed li●e I pattern of that which our first Parents led, the state of Kings (now) being but a sla●erie to that of theirs.  
O school of contemplation! O thou picture of the whole world. drawn in a little compass! O thou Prospective glass, in whom we may behold upon earth, all the frame and wonders of heaven's Now happy (〈◊〉 thrice happy) is he that not playing with his wings in the Golden flames of the Court, nor setting his foot into the busy throngs of the City, nor ●unning up and down in the intricate mazes of the Law, can be content in the winter ●o sit by a country fire, and in the summer to lay his head on the green pillows of the earth, where his sleep shall be soft slumbers, and his wake pleasant as golden dreams. Hast thou a desire to rule, get up to the mountains, and thou shalt see the greatest trees stand trembling before thee to do thee reverence, those mayst thou call thy Nobles: thou shalt have ranks of Oaks on each side of thee, which thou mayst call thy Guard: thou shalt see willows bending at every blast, whom thou mayest call thy flatterers: thou shalt see valleys humbled at thy feet, whom thou mayest term thy slaves. Wouldst thou behold battles? step into the fields, there shalt thou see excellent combats between the standing Corn and the Winds. Art thou a tyrant and delightest in the fall of Great ones? muster then thy harvesters together, and down with those proud Summer Lords, when they are at the highest. Wouldst thou have Subsidies paid thee? the Blow sends thee in Corn, the M●dow gives thee her pasture, the Trees pay custom with their fruit, the Ox bestows upon thee his labour, the Sheep his wool. Dost thou call for music? No prince in the world keeps more skilful musicians: the Birds are thy consort, and the wind instruments they play upon, yield ten thousand tunes. Art thou addicted to study, Heaven is thy library, the Sun, Moon and Stars are thy Books, and teach thee Astronomy: By observing them, thou makest Almanacs to thyself, that serve for all seasons. That great Uolumne is thine Ephemerises, out of which thou mayst calculate the predictions of times to f●llowe: yea, in the very clouds are written lessons of Divinity for thee, to instruct thee in wisdom: the turning over their leaves, teach thee the variations of seasons, and how to dispose thy business for all weathers. If the practice of Physic delight thee what Aphorisms can all the Doctors in the world set down more certain? what rules for good diet can they draw out more singular? what medicines for health can they compound more restorative? what virtues can all their extracted Quintessens●s instill into our bodies more sovereign, than those which the earth of her own bounty bestows for our preservation, and whose working powers are daily experimented in beasts for our example? O you plants of the fields, and you flowers of the garden (nature's Apothecaries, & Earth's Chirurgeons!) your stalks are slender, yet you yourselves are the chiefest pillars that uphold man's life: what clearness doth the sight receive only in beholding you? what comfort does the Sense of smelling find only in your Savours? and how many that have had half their bodies in their graves, have been brought back again only by your sacred I●ces? Who therefore would not consume his youth in the company of these creatures, that have power in them to keep off old age longer than it would, or when old age doth come, are able to give it the livelihood and vigour of youth? who would not rather sit at the foot of a hill tending a flock of sheep, then at the heline of Authority controlling the stubborn and unruly multitude? Better● it is in the solitary woods, and in the wild fields, to be a man among beasts then in the midst of a people● City, to be a beast among men. In the homely village art thou more safe, then in a fortified castle: the stings of Envy, or the Bullets of Treason, are never shot through those thin walls: Sound healths are drunk out of the wholesome wooden dish, when the cup of gold boils over with poison. The country cottage is neither battered down with Cannon in time of war, nor pestered with clamorous suits in time of peace. The fall of Cedars that tumble from the tops of Kingdoms, the Ruin of great houses, that bury families in their overthrow, and the noise of Shipwrecks, that beget even shrieks in the hearts of Cities, never send their terrors thither: that place stands as safe from the shock of such violent storms, as the Bay-tree does from lightning.  
The admiration of these beauties made me so enamoured, and so really in love with the inheritor of them, that the flames of my affection were (in their burning) only carried thither. So that in stead of paved streets, I trod the unbeaten paths of the fields, the ranks of the trees were to me as great buildings, Lambs and skipping Kids, were as my merry companions, the clear fountain as my cups of wine, roots and herbs as the table of an Ordinary, the Dialogues of birds as the Scenes of a play, and the open empty meadows as the proud and populous City. Thus did I wish to live, thus to die: and having wandered long (like a Timonist) hating men because they dishonoured their creation. At length fortune led me by the hand into a place so curiously built by nature, as if it had been the Palace where she purposed none should lie but herself: It was a Grove set thick with Trees, which grew in such order, that they made a perfect circle, insomuch that I 〈◊〉 in fear, it was kept by Fairies, and that I was brought into it by enchantment. The branches of the Trees (like so many●handes) reached over one to another and in their embracements held so fast together, that their boughs made a goodly green roo●e, which being touched by the wind, it was 〈◊〉 to beh●ld so large a see●ing to move: upon every branch sat a consort of singers, so that every Tree showed like a Music room. The floor of this summer-house was pa●ed all over with yelow-field ●lowers, and with white and red daisies, upon which the 〈◊〉 casting but a wanton eye, you would have sworn the one had been nails of Gold, the other studs of enameled S●●uer. Amazed I was when I did but look into this little Paradise, and afraid to enter, doubting whether it were some hallowed ground or no, for I could find no path that directed me to it: neither the foot of any man, nor the hoof of any beast had beaten down the Grass: for the blades of it stood so high and so even, as if their lengths had been given them by one measure. The melody which the birds made, and the varieties of all sorts of fruits which the trees promised, with the pretty and harmless murmuring of a shallow stream, running in windings through the midst of it (whose noise went like a chime of Bells, charming the eyes to sleep) put me in mind of that Garden whereof our great Grandsire was the keeper, I e●en wept for sorrow to think he should be so soolish, as to be driven from a place of such happiness, & blamed him in my mind for leaving such a precedent behind him because by his fall we lost his felicity, and by his frailty all men are now apt to undo themselves and their posterity through the enticements of women.  
Into this Gro●e therefore at last I did venture, resolving ●o make it the Temple where my thoughts should spend themselves i● fruitful contemplation: I purposed to divide the day into acts, as if the ground had been a stage, and that the life which there I meant to lead, should have been but as a play. Some of my hours should have run out in Speculation of the admiral workmanship of Heaven and of the orders which the Celestial bodies are governed by: Some of my hours should have carried me up and down the earth, and have shown unto me the qualities and proportions of the creatures that breed upon it: at another time would I have written satires against the impiety of the world: At another I would have chanted Roundelays, in honour of the Country life. The rest of my time should have fetched in provision for my body. These were appointed to be my Acts in this goodly The●ter: the Music betw●ene were the Singers of the Wood, the audience such as Orphe●s played unto, and those were Mountains and Trees who (unless the whispering winds troubled them with their noise) would have been v●ris attentive. But whilst I setting forth to run this Goal, behold, ●asting up mine eye, I espied a far off certain clouds of smoke▪ whose vapours ascended up so black and thick into the Element, as if the sighs of hell had burst the bowels of the earth, and were flying up toward heaven, to pull down more vengeance.  
Before I saw this, I belee●ed that this place had been fr●e from all resort, desirous therefore to learn who they were that neighboured so nigh and in a solitary wood, (that stood so far from inhabited buildings) I stepped forward & came to the place which (what by nature and what by Art) was so fenced about with Trees, quick set hedges and bushes, which were grown so high (that but for the smoak) it was not possible to imagine how a house could there be builded, there was but o●path leading to it, which (after much searching & many turnings) being found, boldly we●● I on, & arrived at a homely Cottage: the very door of it put me in mind of that poor 〈◊〉 of good Ba●cis & Philaemon, where a God was a guest▪ for it was so low, that even a dwarf might have seemed a tall man, entering into it, so much would it have made him s●oope. This house stood not like Great men's places, always shut, but wide open, as if bounty had been the porter, & being within, it 〈◊〉 Hospitality dwelled there, and had given you welcome. For there was a Table ready covered, with fair linen, nutbrown round trenchers lay in good order, with bread and salt, keeping their state in the middle of the board. The room itself was not sumptuous but handsome, of indifferent bigness, but not very large: the windows were spread with herbs, the chimney dressed up with green boughs, and the floor strewed with bulrushes, as if some lass were that morn to be married: but neither saw I any bride or bridegroom, nor heard I any music, only the next room (which was the kitchen, and into which I went) was there as much stirring, as commonly is to be seen in a Booth, upon the first day of the opening of a Fair. Some sat turning of spits, and the place being all smoky, made me think on hell, for the joints of meat lay as if they had been broiling in the infernal fire: the turne●spits (who were poor tottered greasy fellows) looking like so many heedevills, Some were basting and seemed like fiends pouring scalding oil upon the damned: others were mincing of piemeat, and showed like hangmen cutting up of quarters, whilst another whose eyes glowed with the heat of the fire, stood poking in at the mouth of an Oven, torturing souls as it were in the furnace of Lucifer. There was such chopping of herbs, such tossing of Ladles, such plucking of Geese, such scalding of Pigs, such singing, such scolding, such laughing, such swearing, and such running too and fro, as if Pluto had that day bidden all his friends to a feast▪ and that these had been the Cooks that dressed the dinner.  
At the last espying an old nimble-tongd beldame who seemed to have the command of the place, to her I stepped, and in fair terms requested to know the name of the dwelling, why this great cheer was provided, and who were the Guests, for as yet I saw no body but this Bawd of the Black Guard. Instead of her tongue, her eyes (that had started back a good way into her head, as if they durst not look out) made me an answer. I perceived by her very countenance, that I was not welcome, which afterward she confirmed in words, telling me the place was not for me, the Feast was for others, and that I must instantly be gone, for that a strange kind of people were that day to be merry there. No Rhetoric that I could use, had power to win her to discover who these Guests should be, till at the length a Bribe prevailing more than a Parley, she told me I should be a Spectator of the Comedy in hand, and in a private gallery behold all the Actors, upon condition I would sit quietly and say nothing. And for that purpose was I conveyed into an upper fit, where (unseen) I might (through a wooden Lettuce that had the prospect of the dining room) both see and here all that was to be done or spoken.  
There lay I like a Scout to discover the coming of the expected enemy, who was to set upon this good chear●, and to batter down the walls of hot Pies and Pasties. Mine eyes even ached with staring towards the door, to spy when these states should enter, ducking down with their heads like so many Geese going into a Barn. At length (with bag and baggage) they came dropping in one after another, sometimes three in a company, sometimes five, now more, now less, till in the end the great Hall was so full that it swarmed with them. I know you wonder, and have longing thoughts to know what Generation this is, that lived in this hospitable familiarity: but let me tell you they are a people for whom the world cares not, neither care they for the world: they are all freemen, yet scorn to live in Cities: great travelers they are and yet never from home, poor they are, and yet have their diet from the best men's tables: They are neither old Servingmen (for all I say they are poor) that have been courtiers, and are now past carrying of cloak-bags: nor young gallants that have served in the low Countries, (albeit many of them go upon wooden legs) nor hungry scholars, that all their life time have kept a wrangling in the schools, and in the end are glad to teach Children their Hornbooks: neither are they decayed Poets, whose wits like a fools Land, hold out but a twelve month, and then they live ppon the scraps of other men's invention: no nor players they be, who out of an ambition to wear the best jerkin (in a Strolling company) or to act great parts, forsake the stately and our more than Roman City stages, to travel upon the hard hoof, from village to village for cheese and buttermilk: neither are they any of those terrible noises (with third bare cloaks) that live by red lettuces and juy-bushes, having authority to thrust into any man's room, only speaking but this, Will you have any music? Neither are they Citizens that have been blown up (without Gunpowder) and by that means have been free of the Grate at Ludgate, some five times: no, no, this is a Ging of goodfellows in whom there is more brotherhood: this is a Crew that is not the Damned Crew (for they walk in Satin) but this is the Ragged Regiment: Villains they are by birth, Varlets by education, Knaves by profession, Beg gars by the stattute and Rogues by act of Parliament. They are the idle drones of a Country, the Caterpillars of a common wealth, and the Egyptian lice of a Kingdom. And albeit that at othertimes their attire was sitting to their trade of living, yet now were they all in handsome clean linen, because this was one of their Quarter dinners: for you must understand, that (as afterward I learned by intelligence) they hold these solemn meetings in four several seasons of the year at least, and in several places to avoid discovery.  
The whole assembly being thus gathered together, One amongst the rest, who took upon him a Seniority over the rest, charged every man to answer to his name, to see if the jury were full: the Bill by which he meant to call them being a double jug of ale (that had the spirit of Aqua vitae in it, it smelled so strong) and that he held in his hand: Another standing by with a toast, Nutmeg and Ginger, ready to cry Vous avez as they were called, and all that were in the room having single pots by the ears which like Pistols were charged to go off so soon as ever they heard their names. This Ceremony being set abroach, an O-yes was made: But he that was Rector Chory (the Captain of the Tatterdemalions) spying one to march under his colours, that had never before served in those lousy wars, paused awhile (after he had taken his first draft, to taste the dexterity of the liquor) and then began (justice like) to examine this Younger Brother upon Interrogatories?  
The first question he demanded, was, if he were stalled to the Rogue or no? the poor H●ngarin answered yes, he was: then was he asked by whom he was stalled, and where, and in what manner of complement it was done? to which question the novice having not so much beggarly knowledge as might make a learned reply, forthwith did the wicked Elder o●●maund the young Slavonians that stood about him, to 〈◊〉 him that was so unskilful in the Rudiments of Rogerie) of his best garment, and to carry it presently to the Bousing Ken (that was to say to the taphouse) and there to pawn it for so much strong Ale, as could be ventured upon it. Thus the chief Rag●a-muffen gave in charge, the rest obeyed and did so, whilst the other suffered himself to be stripped, and durst not resist their base authority.  
This done, the Grand signor called for a Gage of Bowse, which belike signified a quart of drink, for presently a pot of Ale being put into his hand, he made the young Squire kneel down, and pouring the full pot on his pate, uttered these words.  
I do stall thee to the Rogue, by virtue of this sovereign English liquor, so that hence forth it shall be lawful for thee to Cant (that is to say) to be a Vagabond and beg, and to speak that peddlers French, or that Canting language, which is to be found among none but beggars: with that, the stalled Gentleman rose, all the rest in the room hanging upon him for joy, like so many dogs about a Bear, and leaping about him with shouts like so many mad men.  
But a Silence being proclaimed, all were hushed, whilst He that played the Master devils part amongst these Hellhounds, after a shrug or two given, thus began to speak to him that was new entered into the damned fraternity. Brother Beggar (quoth he) because thou art yet but a mere freshman in our College, I charge thee to hang thine ears to my lips, and to learn the orders of our house, which thou must observe, upon pain either to be beaten with our cudgels the next time thou art met, or else to be stripped out of any garments that are worth the taking from thee. First therefore (being no better than a plain ordinary Rogue, marry in time thou mayest rise to more preferment amongst us) thou art not to wander up and down all countries, but to walk only like an Vnder-keeper of a Forest, in that quarter which is allotted unto thee: Thou art likewise to give way unto any of us that have borne all the offices of the Wallet before thee, and upon holding up a finger to avoid any town or country village, where thou 〈◊〉 we are foraging to victual our army that ma●ch along with us. For (my poor Villiaco) thou must know, that there are degrees of Superiority and inferiority in our Society, as there are in the proudest company. We have amongst us some eighteen or nineteen several offices for men, and about seven or eight for women: The chiefest of us are called upright-men (O my dear Sun-burnt-brother, if all those that are the Chiefest men in other companies were upright-men too, what good dealing would there be in all occupations? The next are Rufflers: then have we Anglers, but they seldom catch Fish till they go up westward for Flounder: then are there Rogues (which livery thou thyself wearest) next are wild Rogues, than Priggers, than Palliards, than Fraters, than Tome of Bedlams band of mad caps, otherwise called Poor Tom's flock of Wild-geese (whom here thou seest by his black and blue naked arms to be a man beaten to the world) and those wild geese or hairebraines are called Abraham-men: in the next squadron march our brave Whipiacks, at the tail of them come crawling our counterfeit Cranks: in another troop are Gambling Domerers then Curtals follow at their heels, and they bring along with them strange Engineers, called Iri●h-toyles: After whom follow the Swigmen, the jarkmen, the Patricoes, and last the Kinchincoes. These are the tottered Regiments, that make up our main army. The victuallers to the Camp are women, and of those some are Glymerers, some Bawdy-baskets, some Autem-morts: others Walking-Morts: some Doxies, lothers are Dells, the last and least are called Kinchin-morts, with all which Comrades, thou shalt in thy beggarly perregrination, meet, converse, and be drunk, and in a short time know their natures and roguish conditions without the help of a Tutor. At these words the victuals came smoking into the hall to be set upon the board, whereupon the whole swarm squatted down, being as uncivil in manners. as unhandsome in apparel, only the Vhrightmen and Rufflers had the grain of the board given them, and sat at upper end of the table: the rest took their trenchers as they happened into their hands, yet so, that every knave had his quean close by his side.  
The table being thus furnished both with Guests and meat●, instead of Grace, every one drew out a knife, rapt out a round oath, and cried Proface you mad Rogues, and so fell to. They fed more hungerly, then if they had come from the siege of jerusalem: not a word was heard amongst them for a long time, only their teeth made a noise, as if so many Mills had been grinding. Rats going to the assault of a Holland cheese could not more valiantly lay about them: nay my Lord majors Hounds at the dog-house being bidden to the funeral banquet of a dead horse, could not pick the bones cleaner. At length when the platters began to look lean, and their bellies grew plump, then went their tongues: But such a noise made they, such a confusion was there of beggarly tales, some gambling in their Canting language, others in their own, that the scolding at ten conduits, and the gossiping of fifteen bake-houses was delicate music to it. At the length, drunken healths reeled up and down the table, and then it would have made a Physician himself seek, but to have looked upon the waters that came from them. The whole room showed a far off (but that there was heard such a noise) like a dutch piece of Drollery, for they sat at table as if they had been so many Antics: A Painter's apprentice could not draw worse faces than they themselves made, besides those which God gave them: no, nor a Painter himself vary a Picture into more strange and more ill-favoured Gestures, than were to be seen in the action of their bodies: for some did nothing but weep and protest love to their Morts, another swore daggers and knives to cut the throat of his Doxye, if he found her tripping: Some slept being drowned so deep in Ale-drags, that they slavered again: others sung bawdy songs, another crew devised curses upon justices of Peace, Head-boroughs and Constables, grinning their teeth so hard together for anger, that the grating of a saw in a stone-cutters yard, when it files in sunder the ribs of marble, makes not a more horrible noise, In the end, one who took upon him to be speaker to the whole house (bidding the French and English pox on their yelping throats) cried out for silence, telling them it was his turn (according to the Customs of their meeting) to make an Oration in praise of Beggary, & of those that profess the trade: Hereupon (as i● an Owl had happened amongst so many birds) all their eyes did presently stare upon him: who thus began.  
My noble hearts, old weather-beaten fellows, and brave English Spirits, I am to give you that which all the land knows you justly deserve (a Roguish commendation) and you shall have it, I am to give Beggars their due praise, yet what need I do that, sithence no man (I think) will take any thing from them that is their due. To be a Beggar is to be a Brave man, because 'tis now in fashion for very brave men to Beg: but what a Rogue am I to build up your honours upon examples? Do we not all come into the world like arrant Beggars, without a rag upon us? do we not all go out of the world like Beggars, saving only an old sheet to cover us? and shall we not walk up and down in the world like Beggars, with old blankets pinned about us? yes, yes, we will, roared all the Kennel as though it had been the Dogs of Paris Garden: Peace cries the Penilesse Orator, and with a Hem proceeds.  
What though there be Statutes to burn us i'th' ears for Rogues? to ●indge us i'th' hand for Pilferers? to whip us at post● for being Beggars, and to shackle our heels i'th' Stocks for being idle vagabonds? what of this? Are there no other Statutes more sharp than these to punish the rest of the Subjects, that scorn to be our companions? what though a prating constable or a red nosed Beadle say to one of us, sirrah Goodman Rogue, if I served you well I should see you whipped through the Town: Alas, alas, silly animals, if all men should have that which they deserve, we should do nothing but play the executioners and torments one of an other.  
A number of Tailors would be damned for keeping a Hell under their Shop board: all the Brokers would make their Wills at Tyburn, if the searching for stolen goods which they have received, should like a plague but once come amongst them: yea if all were served in their right kind, two parts of the land should be whipped at Bridewell for lechery, and three parts (at least) be set i'th' stocks for drunkenness. The life of a Beggar is the life of a Soldier: he suffers hunger and cold in winter, and heat and thirst in summer he goes lowune, he goes lame, he's not regarded, he's not rewarded: here only shines his glory, The whole kingdom is but his walk, a whole city is but his parish in every man's kitchen is his meat dressed, in every man's seller lies his Beer, and the best men's purses keep a penny for him to spend.  
Since then the profession is ancient (as having been from the beginning) and so general, that all sorts of people make it their last refuge: Since a number of Artificers maintain their houses by it, Since we and many a thousand more live merrily with it, let us my bra●e Tawny-faces, not give up our patched cloaks, nor change our copies, but as we came beggars out of our mother's belties, so resolve and set up your staves upon this, to return like beggars into the bowels of the earth. Dixi.  
Scarce was the word Dixi belched out of his rotten Alylnnges, but all the Bench-whistlers from one end to the other, gave a ringing Plaudite to the Epilogue of his speech, in s●nge of approbation: whereupon they rose up as confusedly as they sat down, & having paid so far as their purses would stretch for what they had devoured, making O's in chalk for the rest when they met there next, and every man with his Mor● being assigned to their quarter, with order given, at what following Fairs to shake hands, and what Ale-bush to tipple, with Items like wise given where, to strike down Geese, where to steal Hens, and from what hedges to fetch sheets, that may serve as pawns, away they departed.  Turba Gravis paci, placidaeque inimica Quieti. 
No sooner were their backs turned, but I that all this while had stood in a corner (like a watching Candle) to see all their villainies, appeared in my likeness; and finding the Coast to be perfectly clear, none remaining in the house but the Hostess to these Guests, her did I summon to a second parley. The spirit of her own malt walk● in her brainpan, so that what with the sweetness of gains which she had gotten by her merchant Uenturers, and what with the fumes of drink, which (like a lusty gale to a windmill) set her tongue in going, I found her apt for talk, and taking hold of this opportunity, after some entreaty to discover to me what these upright-men, Rufflers and the rest were, with their several qualities and manners of life. Thus she began.  

An Vprightman.  
YOu shall understand then (quoth she) that the chiefest of those that were my Table-men to day, are called upright-men, whose Picture I will draw to the life before you: An Vprightman is a sturdy Big-bonde Knave, that never walks but (like a comaunder) with a short truncheon in his hand, which he calls his Filchman. At markets, Fairs, & other meetings, his voice among Beggars is of the same sound that a Constables is of: it is not to be controlled, He is free of all the shires in England, but never stays in any place long, the reason is, his profession is to be idle, which being looked into, he knows is punishable, and therefore to avoid the whip he wanders. If he come to a Farmer's door, the alms he begs is neither meat nor drink, but only money: if any thing else be offered to him, he takes it with disdain and lays it under a hedge for any that comes next: but in revenge of this, if he spy any geese, hens, ducks, or such like walking spirits haunting the house, with them he conjures about midnight, using them the next morning like traitors, either behedding them or quartering them in pieces: for which purpose, this band of upright-men seldom march without five or six in a company, so that country people rather give them money for fear then out of any devotion. After this bloody massacre of the poor innocent pullen, the Actors in their bloody Tragedy, repair to their Stalling-kennes, and those are tippling houses, which will lend money upon any stolen goods, and unto which none but such guests as these resort: there the spits go round, and the cans walk up and down: there have they their Morts and their Doxies, with whom (after they have Bowsed profoundly) they lie (in stead of Featherbeds upon litters of clean straw) to increase the Generations of Rogues and Beggars: For these upright men stand so much upon their reputation, that they scorn any Mor● or Doxy should be seen to walk with them; and indeed what need they care for them, when he may command any Doxy to leave another man and to lie with him; the other not daring to murmur against it. An upright man will seldom complain of want, for whatsoever any one of his profession doth steal, he may challenge a share in it, yea and may command any inferior Rogue to fetch in booty to serve his turn. These carry the shapes of soldiers, and can talk of the Low-Countries, though they never were beyond Dover.   

A Ruffler.  
THe next in degree to him is called a Ruffler: the Ruffler and the Vprightman are so like in conidtions, that you would swear them Brothers: they walk with cudgels alike, they profess arms alike, though they be both out at elboowes, and will swear they lost their limbs in their Country's quarrel, when either they are lame by diseases, or have been mangled in some drunken quarrel: These commonly are fellows that have stood aloof in the wars, and whilst others fought, they took their heels and ran away from their Captain, or else they have been Ser●ingmen, whom for their behaviour, no man would trust with a livery: if they cannot spend their days to their minds by their own begging or robbing of Country people that come late from Markets (for upon those they most usually exercise their trade) then do they compel the inferior subjects of their common wealth (as Rogues, Palliards, Morts, Doxies etc.) to pay tribute unto them. A Ruffler after a year or two takes state upon him, and becomes an Vprightman (but no honest man.)   

An Angler.  
AN Angler is a limb of an Vprightman, as being derived from him: their apparel in which they walk is commonly freeze jerkins and galley flops: in the day time they Beg from house to house, not so much for relief, as to spy what lies fit for their ne 'tis, which in the night following they fish for. The Rod they angle with, is a staff of five or six foot in length, in which within one inch of the top is a little hol● bored quite through, into which hole they put an iron hook, and with the same do they angle at windows about midnight: the draft they pluck up, being apparel, sheets, coverlets, or whatsoever their iron hooks can lay hold of: which prize when they have gotten, they do not presently make sale of it, but after four or five days, or according as they suspect inquiry will be made after it, do they bring such goods to a Broker (traded up for the purpose) who lends upon them half so much money as they be worth, which notwithstanding serves the Angler a while for spending money, and enritehes him that buys it for a long time after.   

A Rogue.  
A Rogue is known to all men by his name, but not to all men by his conditions: no Puritan can dissemble more than he, for he will speak in a lamentable tune, and crawl along the streets, (supporting his body by a staff) as if there were not life enough in him to put strength into his legs: his head shall be bound about with linen, loathsome to behold, and as filthy in colour as the complexion of his face: his apparel is all tattered, his bosom naked, and most commonly no shirt on: not that they are driven to this misery by mere want, but that if they had better clothes given them, they would rather sell them to some of their own fraternity then wear them, and wa●der up and down in that piteous manner, only to move people to compassion, and to be relieved with money, which being gotten, at night is spent as merrily and as lewdly, as in the day it was ●onne by sergeant villainy. Another sect there be of these, and they are called Sturdy Rogues: these walk from country to country under ●ol●ur of traveling to their friends, or to find out some kinsman, or else to deliver some letter to one Gentleman or other, whose name he will have fairly endorsed on paper, folded up for that purpose, and handsomely sealed: others use this shift, to carry a certificate or passport about them, with the hand and seal of some justice to it, giving notice how he hath been whipped for a Uacabond, according to the laws of the Realm, and that he is now to return to such a place where he was borne, or dwelled last, by a certain day limited, which is sure to be set down long enough, for all these writings are but sergeant, they having amongst them (of their own Rank)▪ that can write and read, who are their Secretaries in this business. These fellows have fingers as nimble as the Vprightman, and have their Wenches and meeting places, where whatsoever they get, they spend, and whatsoever they spend is to satisfy their lust: some of this brood are called Curtals, because they wear short Cloaks: their company is dangerous, their lives detestable, and their ends miserable.   

A wild Rogue.  
THe Tame Rogue begets a Wild Rogue, and this is a spirit that cares not in what circle he rises, nor into the company of what Devils he falls: In his swaddling clouts is he marked to be a villain, and in his breeding is instructed to be so: The mother of him (who was delivered of her burden under a hedge,) either traveling with him at her back, or else leading him in her hand, and will rather endure to see his brains beaten out, than to have him taken from her, to be put to an honest course of life, So envious they are & so much do they scorn any profession but their ownet: hay have been Rogues themselves and▪ disdain that their Children should be otherwise. These Wilde-Rogues (like Wild geese) keep in flocks, and all the day loiter in the fields, (if the weather be warm) and at Brick-killes, or else disperse themselves in cold weather, to Rich-man's doors, and at night have their meetings in barns or other out-places, where (twenty or more in a company) they engender male and Female, every one catching her whom he doth best fancy, the stronger and more sturdy keeping the weaker in subjection: their language is bawdy talk, damned oaths, and plots where to filch the next morning, which they perform betimes: rising as early as the Sun, and enjoining their punks to look out for cheats, to make their meeting at night the merrier.   

A Prigger of Prancers.  
A Prigger of Prancers is a horse-stealer, for to Prig, signifies in the Canting language to steal, & Prancer signifies a horse. These walk (in frieze or leather jerkins) with a wand in their hands, watching in what pasture any horses are fit for their turn, and those within three or four nights after are conveyed away at the least 60. miles from the place: if they meet the owners in their ground, they have shifts to avoid his suspicion by feigning they have lost their way to such a Town. These Hackney men that let out horses, will request service at gentlemen's houses, ●heir skill being to keep a Gelding well, and if they get entertainment, they stand to their word, for they keep the Gelding so well, that his Master shall never find fault with any disease he hath, unless it be that he had the dizziness in his head, which made him reel out of his stable to be sold forty miles off at a Fair. These have their female spies that survey Meadows and Closes, and long only for horseflesh.   

A Palliard.  
A Palliard comes next into my mind, & he likewise is called a Clapperdugeon: his upper Garment is an old cloak made of as many pieces patchd together, as there be villainies in him: this Palliard never goes without a Mort at his heels whom he calls his wife. Being either in the street of a City or in a Country village▪ they divide themselves, and beg alms at several doors, but whatsoever is gotten (be it bread, cheese, malt or wool) they sell it to some Rogue or other, and with the money are merry at a Bousing Ken. A Palliard carries about him (for fear of the worst) a Certificate (under a Minister's hand, with the Parishes name, which shall be sure to stand far enough) where this Mort and he were married, when all is but forged: many Irishmen are of this lousy Regiment, & some Welshmen: And the better either to draw pity from men, as also to give colour to their lame wandering, with Sperewort or Arsenic will they in one night poison their Leg, be it never so sound, and raise a blister, which at their pleasure they can take off again.   

A Frater.  
A Frater is a brother of as damned a brood as the rest: his office is to travel with a long wallet at his back, and a black box at his girdle, wherein is a patent to beg for some Hospital or spital house: many of which pattens (especially if they be in paper or Parchment without the Great Seal) are counterfeit, And those that are not so, serve the bearers of them but as instruments to play the knaves by: for though they get never so much, the poor creatures for whom they beg, receive little of it, they lie soaking with a Doxy in a tippling house, whilst the spittle wretches are ready to starve for sustenance at home: let country women returning from markets if they be alone, and in a dangerous place, take heed of these Proctors, for they have the art to unhorsed them, and a conscience to send them packing without any penny in their purses.   

A Quire-bird.  
YOur Quire-birds are such as have sung in such Cages as Newga●e, or a Country jail, and having their bells given them to fly, they seek presently to build their nests under some honest man's roof, not with intent to bring him in any profit, but only to put themselves into money or apparel (though it be by fitching) and then they take their flight.   

An Abraham-man.  
OF all the mad Rascals (that are of this wing) the Abraham-man is the most fantastic; The fellow (quoth this old Lady of the Lake unto me) that sat half naked (at Table to day) from the Girdle upward, is the best Abraham-man that ever came to my house, and the notablest villain: he swears he hath been in Bedlam, and will talk frantically of purpose: you see pings ●●uck in sundry places of his naked flesh, especially in his arms, which pain he gladly puts himself too (being indeed no torment at all, his skin is either so dead with some foul disease, or so hardened with weather: only to make you believe he is out of his wits,) he calls himself by the name of Poor Tom, and coming near any body cries out Poor Tom is a cold. Of these Abraham-men, some Bee exceeding merry, and do nothing but sing Songs, fashioned out of their own brains, some will dance, others will do nothing but either laugh or weep, others are Dogged, and so sullen both in look and speech that spying but a small company in a house, they boldly and bluntly enter, compelling the servants through fear to give them what they demand, which is commonly bacon, or something that will yield ready money. The Vprightman, and the Rogue are not terribler enemies to poultry ware, then poor Tom is: neither does any man shift clean linen oftener than he does his wenches.   

A Whipiack.  
THen there is another sort of nimble fingered knaves, and they are called Whipiacks: who talk of nothing but fights at Sea, Piracies, drown and shipwrecks, traveling both in the Shapes and names of Mariners, with a sergeant Licence to beg from town to town, which licence they call a Gibe, and the Seals to it jarkes. Their colour of wandering from Shire to shire (especially along the Sea ●oastes) is to hearken after their Ship that was overthrown, or for the merchandise stolen out of her, but the end of their land voyages is to rob Booths at fairs, which they call heaving of the Booth▪ These Whipiacks will talk of the Indies, and of all countries that lie under heaven, but are indeed no more but freshwater Soldiers.   

A counterfeit Crank.  
Base in habit, and more vile in condition then the Whipiacke, is the Counterfeit crank: who in all kind of weather going half naked, staring wildly with his eyes, and appearing distracted by his looks, complaining only that he is troubled with the falling sickness: Albeit you give them clothes they will wear none, but rather wish those rags which they have hanging about them should be made loathsome by mire, or their naked bosom and Arms to appear full of bruises, and to be bloody with falling, thereby to kindle in men the greater compassion: to cause that foaming in their mouths (which is fearful to behold by the standers by) they have this trick privily to convey a piece of white soap into one corner of their jaws, which causeth the froth to come boiling forth. These Cranks have likewise their meetings, and their wenches at command.   

A Dummerar.  
Equal to the Cranke in dissembling is the Dummerar, for as the other takes upon him to have the falling sickness, so this, counterfeits Dumbnes, but let him be whipped well, and his tongue (which he doubles in his mouth and so makes a horrid and strange noise instead of speech) will walk as fast as his hands do, when he comes where any booty is.   

A jacke-man and a Patrico.  
ANd because no common wealth can stand without some Learning in it. Therefore are there some in this School of Beggars, that practise writing and reading, and those are called jackmen: yea, the jackman is so cunning sometimes that he can speak Latin: which learning of his lifts him up to advancement, for by that means he becomes Clark of their hall, and his office is to make counterfeit licences, which are called gibes, to which he puts seals, and those are termed jarkes. This jack-man (for his knowledge) is hail fellow well met with a Patrico, who amongst Beggars is their priest, every hedge being his parish, every wandering Harlof and rogue his parishioners: the service he says, is only the marrying of couples, which he does in a wood under a tree, or in the open field, and the solemnity of it is thus: The parties to be wedded, find out a dead horse, 
The Ceremony of marrying Rogues under a heddge.  or any other beast, and standing one on the one side, and the other on the other, the Patrico bids them to live togethe till death them part, and so shaking hands, the wedding dinner is kept at the next Ale house they stumble into, where the music is nothing but knocking with Cans, and their dances none but drunken Brawls.   

An Irish Toil.  
IN this forest of Wild men, the safest Toils to pitch is the Irish Toil, which is a net so strougly and cunningly woven together, that they who go a hunting with it, catch the Commonwealth, and Connycatch the subjects: for an Irish Toil is a sturdy vagabond, who scorning to take pains that may make him sweat, stalks only up and down the Country with a wallet at his back, in which he carries, laces, pins, points and such like, and under colour of selling such wares, both passeth to and fro quietly, and so commits many villainies as it were by warrant.   

A Swigman.  
LIke unto him in conditions is a Swigman or peddler, carrying a pack behind him in stead of a Wallet: their trades are all one, saving that the Swigman is somewhat better in behaviour, though little differing in honesty. They both stand in fear of the Vprightman, and are forced oftentimes to pay him toll out of their packs.   

A kinchin Coe.  
THe last rank of these Run-agates is filled up with Kinchin Coes; and they are little boys, whose parents (having been Beggars) are dead, or else such as have run away from their Masters and in stead of a trade to live by, follow this kind of life to be lows●e by. These Kinchins, the first thing they do is to learn how to Cant, and the only thing they practise is to creep in at windows or Cellar doors.  
Thus have I opened unto you half the nest of this generation of Uipers, now will I discover the other half, wherein ●its a brood of Serpents, as dangerous and as loathsome as these: of which the young ones and the least are called Kinchin-Mor●▪ and those are Girls of a year or two old, which the Morts (their Mothers) carry at their backs in their slates (which in the Canting tongue are sheets) if they have no children of their own they will steal them from others, 
A kinchin. Mort.  and by some means disfigure them, that by their parents they shall never be known. 
A Dell.  The second bird of this feather is a Del, and that is a young wench, ripe for the act of Generation, but as yet not spoiled of her maidenhead: these Dells are reserved as dishes for the Vpright-men, for none but they must have the first taste of them, & after the upright-men have defloored them, (which commonly is when they are very young) then are they free for any of the brotherhood▪ & are called Dells no more, but doxies. Of these Dells some are termed Wilde-dels, and those are such as are borne and begotten under a hedge: the other are young wenches that either by death of parents, the villainy of Executors, or the cruelty of Masters or Mistresses fall into this infamous and damnable course of life. When they have gotten the title of Doxies, then are they common for any, 
A Doxy.  and walk for the most part with their betters, (who are a degree above them) called Morts▪ but whensoever an Vprightman is in presence, ● the Doxy is only at his command. These Doxies will for good victuals or a small piece of money, prostitute their bodies to servingmen if they can get into any convenient corner about their Master's houses, & to ploughmen in Barnes, Haylo●ts or stables: they are common pickpockets, familiars with the base sorts of cutpurses, and oftentimes secret murderers of those infants which are begotten of their bodies. These Doxies have one special badge to be known by, for most of them go working of laces and ●hirt strings, or such like stuff, only to give colour to their idle wandering.  
Of Morts there be two kinds, that is to say, a walking mort and an Autem Mort: 
A walking Mort.  the Walking Mort is of more antiquity than a Doxy, and therefore of more knavery: they both are unmarried, but the Doxy professes herself to be a maid, (if it come to examination) and the Walking mort says she is a widow, whose husband died either in the Portugal voyage, was slain in Ireland or the Low countries, or came to his end by some other misfortune, leaving her so many small infants on her hand in debt, whom not being able by her honest labour to maintain, she is compelled to beg. These Walking Morts travel from Country to country, making laces upon staves, & small purses, and now and then white vallance for beds: Subtle queans they are, hard hearted, light fingered, cunning in dissembling, and dangerous to be met if any Ruffler or Rogue be in their company. They fear neither God nor good laws, but only are kept in awe by the upright-men, who often times spoil them of all they have, which to prevent, the Walking Morts use this policy, they leave their money (sometime five shillings, sometimes ten shillings) in several shires, with some honest farmer's wife or others, whom they know they may trust, and when they travel that way again, at half years end, or a quarters, fetch it to serve their turns, but dare ●euer go in good clothes, lest the upright-men either strip them into rags, or else stark naked, as they use to do.  
An Autem Mort, 
An Autem mort.  is a woman married, for Autem in the Beggary language is a Church: these Morts seldom keep with their husbands, but are from them sometimes a month or two, yet never walk they without aman in their company, and boys and girls at their heels of ten or twelve years old, whom they employ at windows of houses in the night time, or early in the mornings, to pilfer any thing that is worth the carrying away (which in their tongue) they call Nilling of the Ken. These Autem Morts walk with wallets on their shoulders, and Slates (or sheets at their backs, in which they use to lie. Their husbands commonly are Rufflers, upright-men, or Wild Rog●es, and their companions of the same breed.  
There is another Parrot (in this Birdcage) whose feathers are more ●leeke, 
A Bawdy basket.  and tongue more smooth than the rest, and she is called a Bawdy Basket, these Bawdy baskets are women that walk with baskets or Cap-cases on their arms, wherein they have laces, pings, needles, white Inkle, tape, round white silk Girdles, and such like: these will buy Coney Skins, and in the mean time steal Linen or pewter: they are fair spoken, and will seldom swear whilst they are selling their wares, but lie with any man that hath a mind to their commodities The upright-men and these hold such league together, that whatsoever they have is common to them both, and oftentimes will they with money relieve one another.  
The self same Truce is taken between the upright-men and the damaunders of Glimmer, 
demanders of Glimmer.  that is to say, those who travel up & down with licences to beg, because their houses have been consumed with fire, for Glimmer (in Canting) signifies fire. These Glimmering Morts are so tender hearted, that they shed tears if they make but mention of their losses, & tell a lamentable story how the fire destroyed their barns, stables etc. all that they speak being mere lies: they likewise carry wallets at their ●ackes, and are only attended upon and defended by the upright-men, who never walk along with them through any town, but keep aloof.  
And these (quoth the Hostess of the Beggars) are all or the chiefest (both He-devils and Shee-devils) that dance in this large circle. I have brought you acquainted with their names, their natures, their trade, and their traffic: if you have a desire to know more of them, you shall find whole congregations of them at Saint Quintens, the Three-cranes in the vintry, Saint Tib's and at Knapsbury, which four places are four several barns within one miles' compass near London, being but Nicknames given to them by the upright-men, In those Inns do they lodge every night; In those do upright-men lie with Morts, and turn Dells in Doxies (that is to say ravish young wenches) whilst the Rogue is glad to stand at reversion and to take the others leavings. In Midlesex likewise stand four other Harbours for them, namely, Draw the pudding out of the fire (which is in the parish of Harrow on the Hil) The cross keys (which is in Cranford parish (Saint julian's (which is in Thistleworth parish) And the house of Pity in Northall Parish. The King's Barn near Darford, and Ketbrooke near Blackheath, are likewise houses of good receipt for them: In all Shiers have they such Inns as these; and in all of them and these recited, shall you find some times 40. Upright men together, engendering beggars with their Morts. No sin but is here committed without shame, Adultery is common amongst them, Incest but laughed at, Sodomy made a jest: At these Havens do they cast anchor boldly because none are by to bar their entrance; yea those that are owners of these Barns and Backhouses, dare not but give welcome to these Unruly Guests; for if they should not, they would at one time or other set fire of their houses, or by bloody and treacherous practices take away their lives. For this cause sir (quoth she) am I glad to look smilingly upon them, and to play the Hostess because my abiding stands so far from company; yet I protest (quoth she) I hate the sight of them as knowing them to be hell hounds, and have made discovery of their devilish conditions, because you may teach others how to avoid them: and howsoever you may be drawn peradventure to publish these abuses to the world (said she) yet I pray you conceal my name, the publishing of which may cost me my life.  
By this time, the fumes of Ale which had distempered her brains, and set her tongue a going were dispersed; so that both her looks and speech showing that she did not now dlssemble, but uttered these things unfeignedly, I gave her many thanks for her Discovery, counseled her to change her uncomfortable Lodging, and to dwell in a place more inhabited (which she promised to do) and away I went. A thousand cogitations kept me company as I traveled alone by myself: sorry I was to hear that in those places where Innocence and Simplicity should be borne, so much and such ugly Villainy should be nourished, yet was I glad that I came to the knowledge of their evils, because the dressing of such wounds in a common wealth, is the curing of them.  
Looking therefore with more piercing eyes into the Country-life, I began to hate it worse than (before) I loved it, I fell to dispraise it faster than ever I did commend it. For I found it full of care, and full of craft: full of labour, and yet full of penury; I saw the poor husbandman made a slave to the rich farmer, the farmer racked by his landlord: I saw that covetousness made dear years when she had fullest barns; and to curse plenty for being liberal of her blessings. I had heard of no sin in the City but I met it in the village; nor any Vice in the tradesman, which was not in the ploughman. All places therefore being haunted with evil Spirits, I forsook the fields & the Mountains▪ and took my journey back again to the city whose customs (both good and bad) I desired to be acquainted with. It was my fortune to travel so late, that the Moon had climbed up to the very top of Midnight, before I had entrance into the gates of the City, which made me make the more haste to my lodging, But in my passage I first heard (in some good distance before me (the sound of a bell, and then of a man's voice, both whose tunes seemed at that dead hour of the night very doleful: On I hastened to know what noise it should be▪ and in the end found it to be the Bellman of London. The sound of his Voice at the first put me in mind of the day of judgement; Men (me thought) starting out of their sleeps, at the ringing of his bell, as when they are to rise from their graves at y● call of a trumpet: But when I approached near unto him and beheld a men with a lantern and can●le in his hand, a long staff on his neck, and a dog at his tail, I supposed verily, because the Moon shone somewhat dimly, that the man in the Moon had leapt down from heaven, & (for haste) had left his bush of thorns behind him. But these imaginations vanishing, as fast as they were begotten, I began to talk to my Belman, and to ask him why with such a jangling and bawling, and beating at men's doors, he went about to waken either poor men that were overwearied with labour, or sick men that had most need of rest? he made answer unto me, that the Ringing of his Bell, was not (like an alarum in a town of Garrison) to fright the inhabitants, but rather it was music to charm them faster with sleep: the Bearing at their doors assured those within, that no thieves were entered, nor that false servants had wilfully or negligently suffered the doors to stand open, to have their masters robbed, & that his crying out so loud, was but like the shrill Good morrow of a Cock, to put men (that had wealth enough) in mind of the time how it slideth away, and to bid those that are full of bustnesse to be watchful for their due hours when they were to rise. He called himself therefore the Sentinel of the City, the watchman for every ward, the honest Spy that discovered the prentices of the night, and that as a lantern in the poop of a Ship, was a guide or comfort to seamen in most pitchy darkness, so was his walking up and down in the night time, a prevention to the City oftentimes of much and many dangerous fires. I liked well that thus he praised himself, because in those praises lay the commendation of an honourable, civil, and politic government. And so far dealt I with him that in the end he brought me acquainted with his office, aswell as he knew it himself, and discovered unto me the properties of his walks, as how far his bounds reached; what mad hobgobling he oftentimes encountered with, what mischiefs he now and then prevented, what knaveries he was now and then an eye witness to, and to what secret villainies (brought to bed in darkness) he was compelled to be (though not the midwife) yet a gossip, present at the labour● and delivery. Of all which I having a longing desire to get the true pictures, and persuading him that he was bound by his place, by his conscience▪ and by the laws of common humanity to lay open such plots as were so dangerous to the common wealth whereof the was a member, he yielded at the length to discover all that he knew, and for that purpose not only carried me home to his lodging where he gave me the notes and names of sundry abuses begotten in the dead of night, but also went up and down the City with me all the next day, showing me the very doors and signs at which they dwelled, and the very faces of those that are the devils Factors in those low country commodities of Hell: I learned much by the bell-man's intelligence, but more afterwards by my own observation and experience; what merchandise I stored myself with by both Voyages, here do I unlade, and what profit soever arises by the traffic of them, shall if you please be wholly yours. And for that the Lading was of sundry commodities, I will deliver them forth in their several parcels, as I received them.   

Of cheating Law.  
ALL Vices mask themselves with the vizards of Virtue: they borrow their names, the better and more currently to pass without suspicion: for murder will be called Manhood, Drunkenness is now held to be Physic, Impudence is Audacity, Riot good fellowship etc. So are these Villains (whose faces I mean to discover) painted●ouer with fresh orient colours, because their looks may be more pleasing, and less suspected to have craft underneath them. And for that purpose have their Knaveries gotten the names of Arts or Laws, as the Act of such a thing or such a law, not that they are institutions set down by law for the good of men, or of a commonwealth: but as the Law is grounded upon reason, and hath Maxims of justices, upon which she buildeth all her Policies whereby she governs kingdoms: So these newfound Laws of the devils invention, are grounded upon Mischief and are nothing else but certain Acts and Rules drawn into heads (in an assembly of damned Wretches) for the utter undoing of Men, and confusion of a Weal-public.  
Of all which Laws, the Highest in place, and the Highest in perdition is the Cheating Law, or the art of winning money by false dice: Those that practise this study call themselves Cheaters, the Dice Cheaters, and the money which they purchase Cheats: borrowing the term from our common Lawyers, with whom all such casuals as fall to the Lord at the holding of his leets, as Waifes, Strays, & such like, are said to be Escheated to the Lords use, and are called Cheats. This sort of gamesters, were at first a few in number, (the art being odious) they were poor (as being hated and driven from all good men's company.) But now, there are so many professed Cheaters, and so many that give countenance to their occupation, that they might make an army sufficient to give the Turk a battle: now are they not hungry thread bare knaves, but gallants that ruffle in silks, and are whorried through the streets in Coaches, their purses being full of Crowns, and their fingers being held up able to command the proudest Courtesan. Yea, to such a rankness hath custom brought this vice, and to such a boldness, that in the most noble assemblies, at the best Ordinaries where your only gallants spend afternoons, and in your most civil meetings of Merchants, your wealthiest Citizens, if they fall to play with Dice for any round sums of money, it is now grown to a fashion to have some one or other to take up the Cheater's weapons, and (without all respect of honesty, friendship or society) to beat all comers.  
A Cheater plays his masters prize at 14. several weapons, and those weapons are these.  

The names of false Dice.  
A Bale of bard sink Dewces.  
A Bale of Flat sink Dewces.  
A Bale of Flat since Aceses.  
A bale of bard since Aceses.  
A Bale of Bard cater-treas.  
A bale of Flat-Cater-Tre as.  
A bale of Fullams.  
A bale of light Graniers.  
A bale of Langrets', contrary to the vantage.  
A bale of Gordes, with as many High-men as Low-men  
for passage.  
A bale of Demies.  
A bale of Long-dices for even andod.  
A bale of bristles.  
A bale of Direct contraries.   
These are the 14 devilish hooks, by which the Cheater angel's for other men's money, he cares not in what River, he makes no conscience with what bait, so he may have good draughes to maintain himself in riots, and his whore in rich apparel, that's the white he shoots at Neither doth he let all these arrows fly at one mark nor in all weathers, But some he shoots in one game, some in another, and as he finds what fools are in his company, so does he bestow his bolts. To set down all the Legierdemai●●e of this handicraft, would peradventure instruct some ill minded persons in the villainy, which is published only to have others shun it: I will therefore show you a few of their juggling tricks (tha● are Graduates in the art) and by the shape of them, judge the rest, for all are alike.  
A Langret is a Die which simple men have seldom heard of, and happily never seen (but to their cost) It is (to the eye of him that is but a Novice) a good and square Die, yet it is cut longer upon the Cater and Trea, then upon any other point, & is for that cause called a Langret: these Langrets are also called Bard Cater Treas, because in the running, the longer end will commonly (of his own sway) draw downwards, & turn either Sice, Sink, Deuce or Ace upwards on the board; the principal use of them is at Nowm. For so long as a pair of bard Cater Treas be walking, so long can you cast neither 5. nor 9 unless it be by great chance, that the roughness of the Table, or some other stop force them to stay, and to run against their kind; for without Cater Trea, 5. or 9 you know can never come. Here some may imagine, that by this means he that hath the first Dice in his hand, may strip all that play at the Table of their money; but this must be their help. An odd diecalled a Flat Cater Trea, (and no other number) is to be ready at hand, for granting the Trea and Cater to be always upon the one die, then is there no chance upon the other die, but may serve to make 5 or 9 and so cast forth and lose all.  
The Cheater therefore marketh well the Flat, and bendeth a great part of his study to learn when he is abroad, for so long as that is stirring, he will never cast at much: the shift which a Cheater is driven to, in conveying the Flat in and out, is a notable cunning, and in their trade is called Foisting; which is nothing else but a slight to carry Dice easily in the hand so often as the Foyster listeth; so that when either he or his partner casteth the Dice, the Flat comes not abroad till he hath made a Great hand, otherwise the Flat is still sure to be One, unless the Cheater of purpose suffers the silly Novices, with whom he plays, to cast in a hand or two to give them courage and to live in hope of winning.  
The damnable Oaths and Quarrels that wait at the table of Gamesters, are occasion that many men forbeareto venture money in those sports, who otherwise would play▪ the Cheater therefore (being a cunning observer in all fashions) will seldom swear (if he have gotten a Gul into his company whom he is loath to anger for fear he lose him) and as seldom swagger, but will rather put up an open wrong, then by a foolish brawl to break off the company and so hinder himself and his consort of purchase: But if he swear, you would take him for a puritan, for his oaths are Of honesty, Of troth, by Saint Martin. etc. And take this note, that when he swears affirmatively, he means always the contrary. As for example, if I say unto you when the Dice come to your hands, Of honesty cast at all, my meaning is, you shall cast at the table, or else at very little: or if when one being stripped out of all his money, offer to pawn a Ring or a jewel, and I swear by Saint Martin I think it is fine gold, then do I mean that it is pure copper, and so of the rest: He that is drawn in to venture his money, is (amongst this cursed brotherhood of Cheaters) termed a cozen, and is handled so kindly, as if he were a cozen indeed: if he once set in a foot, and that they fall to Hunt him▪ then all the craft is to make the Coney sweat, that is to say, so wisely to handle him, that he may have a desire more and more to play and to keep company; yet so warily to increase this appetite in him that he Smoke not the Cheater, which is, that he smell not what knavery is bend against him and so slip the collar like a Hound, and shake off the company for ever.  
At the taking up of a cozen, the first Veny that a Cheater gives him, is to learn before he play what store of Bit he hath in his Bay, that is, what money he hath in his purse, and whether it be in great Cogs or small: that is in gold or silver, and at what game he will soon stoop; for that being known, his humour is fed, and he is choked with the meat he loves best. For some that will not play a groat at Nowm, will lose a hundred pound at Hazard, and he that will not lose a shilling at Dice, will play away his patrimony at Cards: for which cause the Cheater furnisheth himself for all voyages, but especially provides for fine Cheats, and to achieve which with more ease, he acquaints himself with Dice-makers, that work in corners, (U●rlets they are that are Factors to the devil, and for money will exchange their souls in a bale of Dice) These Dice makers, arm the Cheater with the foresaid 14 weapons, and then he is a Cheater complete.  
One notable policy is (as a Rule) set down in this School of cheating, & that is, A Cheater never discovereth the secrets of his Art to any, unless it be to such a one who being left by his parents rich in money and possessions, hath to the music of square rafling bones danced so long, that he hath danced himself into the company of beggars, and is brought to such want and misery, that he would leave no stone unturned to find a penny under it. Such a wretch is instructed in those Villainies, by which he himself hath been wrought to infamy: the poison that once he swallowed doth he now cast up to kill others with it. Neither doth the Cheater bestow this learning upon his young Scholar, out of a commiseration of his low estate, but only to make use of him, even in the height of his extremity. His lorny man therefore doth he make him, and because the Cheater is happily a man so noted in all companies, that few or none will venture money where he plays, the Novice is taught to play his scholars prize, whilst the other stands by and looks on, yet so, that the Cheater hath the sweetness of the gains. The Novices employments then, are amongst his rich Kindred, Countrymen, or acquaintance to find out Cousins; whom he must by one trick or other get to a Tavern, or invite them to ● supper, at the end of which, the Cheater lays about him to draw them to play, & secretly lends his Pupil money to maintain game, both their wits working how to cheat those that are in the company. We have been to long at Dice, lét us now fall to Cards.   

Of Barnard's Law.  
DIce and Cards are Twins, idleness was the father of them, Desire of gains the mother, Honest Recreation says she was their Nurse, and aught to have the bringing of them up: but howsoever, the Devil makes them now his adopted Children: and no wonder, for they are like in conditions, as being both (like him) full of deceit: if there be cozenage in tripping of a die, there is the like craft in shuffling and sorting of a pair of ●ardes: insomuch, that what game soever is on foot, He that is marked out to be the loser (by the synodical assembly and Father's oath Barnard's Law, is sure never to depart a winner.  
To speak of all the sleights used by Cart-players in all sorts of Games, would but weary you that are to read, and be but a thankless and unpleasing labour for me to set them down. Omitting therefore the deceits practised (even in the fairest and most civil companies) at Primero, Sannt, Maw, Tromp, and such like games, I will only lay open the villainies of a base kind of people, that travel up and down the whole land, sometimes in the habit of Gentlemen, sometimes of Servingmen, sometimes of Graziers, Farmers and plain fellows, maintaining themselves only by the cozenage they use in Card-playing: which kind of play of theirs, they call The Barnard's Law.  
To act which knavish Comedy of Wily-begily, 5. Persons are required: and those are, 

1 The Taker.  
2 The Cozen.  
3 The Verser.  
4 The Barnard.  
5 The Rutter.    
These are the players: now shall you hear their parts.  
1 The Taker, is he that by some fine invention fetch●ht in the man whom they desire to draw into Gaming.  
2 The Cousin is the party that is taken.  
3 The Verser, is a fellow more grave in speech & habit, and seems to be a landed man his part is to second what the taker begins, and to give countenance to the act.  
4 The Barnard is the chief player, for he counterfeits many parts in one, and is now a drunken man, anon in another humour, and shifts himself into so many shapes, only to blind the Cousin, and to feed him with more delight, the more easily to beguile him.  
5 The Rutter is as arrant a knave as the rest, his part is discharged when he hath begun a fray with his own shadow, whilst the rest that have made a younger Brother of the poor Cousin, steal out of sight. Now to the country itself: The Prologue of which if it go off well, there is good hope all shall end well: All the cunning thereof is how to begin, and to do that, the Taker studies his part at his finger's ends. The Stage on which he plays his prologue is either in Fleetstreet, the Strand, or in Paul's, and most commonly in the afternoon, when Country Clients are at most leisure to walk in those places▪ or for dispatching of their business, travel from Lawyer to Lawyer, through Chancery lane, Holborn, and such like places.  
In this heat of running to and fro, if a plain Fellow well and cleanly appareled, either in homespun Russet or Freeze (as the season requires) with a side pouch at his girdle, happen to appear in his rustical likeness. There is a cousin says one. At which word out flies the Taker, and thus gives the onset upon my old Penny-father. Sir, God save you: you are welcome to London, how do all our good friends in the Country? I hope they be well: the Russetting amazed at these salutations of a stranger, replies: Sir, all our friends in the country are in health, but pray pardon me, I know you not believe it: No (answers the Taker) are you not a Lancashire man, or o● such a country? if he says yes, than the fish nibbles and he gives him more line to play with: if he say no, than the Taker hath about with another weapon, & swears soberly, In good sooth sir I know your face, & am sure we have been merry together, I pray (if I may beg it without offence) bestow your name upon me, and your dwelling place. The innocent man, suspecting no poison in this gilded cup, tells him presently his name and abiding, by what Gentleman he dwells. etc. which being done, the Taker for thus interrupting him in his way, and for the wrong in mistaking him for another) offers a quart of wine: if the Cousin be such an ass to go into a Tavern, than he is sure to be Uncled, but if he smack my Taker, and smell Gunpowder trains, yet will not be blown up, they part fairly, and then to the Verser goes the Taker, discovering what he hath done, and delivers the man's name, country, and dwelling to the Verser, who boldly stepping to him, or crossing the way to meet him full in the face, taketh acquaintance presently of him, salutes him by his name, inquires how such and such Gentlemen do, that dwell in the same town by him, and albeit, the Honest Hobnaile-wearer, can by no means be brought to remember this new friend, yet will he nill he, to the Tavern he swears to have him, and to bestow upon him the best wine in London.  
divers other pulleys (if these two fail) have they to draw simple men into their company, as by dropping a shilling in the open way, which being taken up in the Countryman's sight, must be spent in wine, because he shall have his half part, or by entreating him to step into a Tavern till the Verser have writ a word or two into the Country, which he must carry to his friends, offering the Cousin a shilling for his pains. But the conclusion of all is, that if they think his bag is well lined with silver, to the Tavern by one subtle hook or other, they will pull him, where being set with the Verser, and the Taker, and wine called for: In comes the Barnard stumbling into the Room, as if it were by chance, seeming to be half drunk: and crying the company mercy for being so bold with them, they modestly answer no hurt is done, and ask him if he will drink with them? he takes their offer, and swears to pay for a pint of Wine, which they by no means will suffer.  
But the Barnard telling them he has money for what he calls, and using phrases fit for a drunken man, out flies some 20. or 40. Angels on the board, which he puts up presently again and says, seeing they will not suffer him to pay for a pint, he will play at cards for it with any one of them at a new game which he learned but now, with the loss only of a pot of Ale. The rest of his consort (making as though what they do is to be rid of him are content to play for a pint and no more. The Taker or the Verser is the man must play with him, the Cards are fetched, Mumchaunce or Decoy is the game: the first wager is wine, the second two pence in money, from two pence they rise to a shilling from that to a pound, and having drawn some good store of gold from the Barnard, the Cousin (alured with the sweetness of gain, and hope of winning, seeing the other half drunk, as he imagines) is offered to be half in whatsoever is won: he stoops to this lure, but the bush is so well beaten by these subtle fowlers, that in the end, all the birds are flown out of the Cousin's hand, and he hath not one penny left him in his purse: if then he smell the knavery, and fall to calling for a Constable, swearing the drunken rascal hath cozened him (for the Barnard you must know carries away all the money) then enters the Rutter, who picking some idle quarrel either in the room, or at the street door, the covey of the cheat ●s take their flight in the mean time, and that (with the sharing of the purchase in another Tavern) is the Epilogue to their comedy, but the first entrance to the poor countrymen Tragedy.  
These Comedians strowte likewise up and down the country in the habits of Servingmen, and silly fellows, haunting Brainford, Kingston, Croyden, Rumford, & such other places nearest London upon the Market days only, and at the end of market, when Butchers, graziers & others whom they think to be stored with money are on their way home, then will one of this crew overtake them in riding, and light at some town of purpose to mend his girt, to remove a shoe of his horse, or upon any other excuse, entreating the company (with whom he is newly acquainted) to stay and drink a pot with him in the mean time. And in these country voyages do they sail by other points of the compass, the winds are not so boisterous, nor the Seas so rough as the former, for here is there neither one that plays the drunkard nor any that swaggers, but these devilish maskers, pass under these names at such meetings. viz. 1 The party that fetcheth in the gull, (whose feathers they mean to pluck) is not called the Taker, but the Setter 2. He that seconds him, keeps his first title, and is called the Verser. 3 He that looseth his money, not a Cousin but a coney. 4 H● that comes in, and before counterfeited the drunken Barnard, is now sober and called the Barnacle.  
Sometimes likewise this Card-cheating, goes not under the name of Barnard's Law, but is called Bat-fowling, and then the Setter is the Better, the fool that is caught in the net, the Bird, the Tavern to which they repair to work the Feat is the Bush, the wine the Strap, and the Cards the Limetwigs.  
Thus have I discovered a strange Art, by which conies are caught after a new manner of hunting, a●d Cousins found out that were never of the kindred before. Thus the honest farmer simply going about his business, is stripped of that money, which should further his Lawsuits, and so perhaps is overthrown; Thus the Servingman being sent with his Lord's treasure, is cheated and turned out of service: Thus the apprentice having his masters wealth in his hand, is robbed (by tame thieves) and in the end driven to run away or to die in prison. Thus the Gentleman coming new to his land is made a beggar: thus the Merchant is undone. Thus all men are abused. Thus the commonwealth is dishonoured by feeding such vipers in her womb, that cannot live but by gnawing out of her bowels.   

Vincents Law.  
THe dicing Cheater, and the cozening card-player, walk in the habits of Gentlemen, and carry the faces of honest men. So likewise do those that are students in the Vincents Law: whose Inn is a bowling Alley, whose books are bowls, and whose lawcases are lurches and rubbers. The pastime of Bowls, is now grown to a common exercise, or rather a trade, of which some of all companies are free, the sport is not so common as the cozenage used in it, which to have it live with credit and in a good name, 'tis called the Vincents law.  

In this Law they which play booty are the Bankers.  
He that betteth is the Gripe.  
He that is cozened is the Vincent.  
The gains gotten is called Termage.   
The Bankers are commonly men appareled like honest and substantial Citizens: who come into the Bowling Allies for a rubbers or so, as though it were rather for sport, then for any gains, protesting they care not whether they win or lose: which carelessness of theirs is but a shadow to their pretended knavery: whilst they are crying Rub, rub, rub & a great one, In come the spectators dropping one by one, and stand leaning over a Rail to behold them; of which oftentimes some simple men that never saw common Bowling Ally before, may perhaps be of the number, and is brought in of purpose by one of their own Brotherhood to be rid of his money: if such a young bird happen amongst them, and do once but chirp, that's to say either take or offer any lay, they all hearken to his note, especial●y if he sing shrilly, that's to say be deep: if there be good store of Lookerson, then are there certain old soakers, whose office is to do nothing but listen for bets either even or odd: & these are called Gripes; which Gripes will refuse no Lay, if the ●ds may grow to their advantage, for the Gripes & the Banckers are sworn brothers to the devil (their father in law) and the bowls have such virtue in them that ●heir biasses will directly run▪ as the Gripes have placed their Bets. the Banckers (albeit they so play as if they minded nothing but their own game) yet have still an ear how the lays are made, and according to that level do they throw their bowls, so that be sure the bowlers play booty: for suppose 7. be up for the game, and that the one side hath 3. the other none, than the Vincent (who is the Novice that standeth by, and is not acquainted with the talents of these Gripes, nor feels not when they draw blood of him, no nor doth not so much as carry an evil thought of the bowlers that they should play booty, looking so gravely and so like to honest men) he poor colt, seeing three to none, beegins to grow lusty, and to offer odds on that side which is fairest for the game: what odds says the Gripe? 3. to one cries the Vincent: no says the Gripe it is more, and with that the Bankers are come to four for none, than the Vincent offers to lay four to one: I take six to one says the Gripe, I lay it cries the Vincent: and so they make a bet of six crowns, shillings, or pence, as the Vincent is of ability to lay: and thus will sundry take their odds of him: On then go the Bankers with the game and win another cast which is five for none; at this fools fortune of his, the Vincent grins for joy, scratches his elbow, and is so proud, that no ground about the Alley can hold him, thinking verily both by the odds and goodness of the play, it is impossible for his ●i●e to lose, and therefore (being now foolhardy) he takes and lays bets freely: all eyes greedily marking the event of this storm; At the length on a sudden, the Sun begins to shine on the other side that were none, and they win perhaps so long till they come to three or five, and still as their luck altars, diversity of bets are laid; till at last they are five for five: and then the Gripe comes upon the Vincent, and offers him odds, which if the Vincent fasten upon, he looseth all, for upon what side soever the Gripe lays, that side ever wins, how great soever the odds be at first on the contrary part, so that the cozenage grows in at playing booty. This sour banquet to the Vincent is seasoned with sweet meats to the Bankers and the Gripes, who at night meet in some Tavern, and share the money gotten by this base means, which money they call Termage.  
Now to shadow the villainy the more, the Banker that wins and is a forehand with the game, will lay frankly that he shall win, and will bet hard, and lay great odds, but with whom? either with them who play with him that are as crafty knaves as himself, or else with the Gripe, and this makes the Vincent to stoop to the blow the sooner. Besides, if any honest men that hold themselves skilful in bowling, offer to play any set match against these common bowlers, if these Bankers fear to have the worst and suspect the others play to be better than theirs, then have they a trick (in watering of the alley) to give such a moisture to the bank, that he who offers to strike a bowl with a shore, shall never hit it whilst he lives, because the moisture of the Bank hinders the proportion of his Aiming. Many other practices there are in Bowling, tending to cozenage, but the greatest and grossest is Booty, in which the deceit is so open and palpable, that I have seen men stone blind offer to lay bets frank●y, although they could see a bowl no more than a post, only by hearing who played, and how the old Gripes had made their lays.  
Thus, sports that were invented for honest recreation, are by the wicked abusing of them, turned to men's confusion: And not only in these games before rehearsed, but also in those that are both more laudable, and more lawful. For in the Tennis-court cheating hath a hand, yea and in shooting, which is the noblest excercise of our English Nation, arrows do now and then fly with false feathers. Since than that all kind of Gaining serves but as gulfs to devour the substances of men, and to swallow them up in beggary, my counsel is utterly either to refrain such pastimes, or if men are of such spirits that they must needs venture their money, then to be very provident how they play, and to be cho●se of their company. Now let us turn over the volumes of other Laws, enacted in the Parliament of these Devils.   

The Black Art.  
Having waded thus far in these puddles of damned impiety, it shall not be amiss to go on, and search even to the bottom and farthest shore of them: to effect which the sooner, we must now deal in the Black Arte. It is not that Black Art, by which men conjure up spirits, and raise Devils in Circles, to tell where money is hid, or whether goods that are stolen are conveyed; But this Black Art, is to fetch away money where it lies, and to raise up a fiend in a rich Mercers or goldsmiths shop at midnight without the gibberish of a staring conjuror. This Black art works in darkness, as well as the other: it deals with the Devil as the other doth, and is as unlawful as the other is: it you will needs (in a word) know the mystical meaning of this black Art, it is called in English Picking of Locks, and this Engine of mischief turns upon these five wheels, viz.  

The Picklock is called a Charm.  
He that watcheth if any body come is the Stand.  
The tools that do the business are called Wresters.  
Picking of the lock is called Farsing.  
The gains gotten is Pelferie.   
Now albeit that two persons only are employed in this undermining of a door, viz the Charm & the Stand, yet the burglary is committed by other hands, which are in a readiness to receive the goods (when the house is entered) and to convey them in parcels away. The Charm (who is the master of this black Art, goes like a conjuror, with a number of keys and wrists like so many Pentacles) about him, which he calls picklocks, and for every sundry fashion they have a sundry term, but being ignorant of their words of Art, I omit them, only assuring you thus much, that the Charm hath such cunning, and such dexterity in opening of a lock (and that without any great noise) that no ward whatsoever (be it never so doubled) but flies back at his juggling with it. Some have their instruments from Italy made of steel, some are made here in England by Smiths that are partners & partakers in their villainous occupations. But howsoever, the trade of Lock-picking may well be called the Black-Art, for none study it, but those that for other men's goods have fold their very souls to the Devil.   

The Kerbing Law.  
THe Black Art and the Kerbing Law, are grounded both upon the self same positions: for the Black Art teaches how to break open a lock, the Kerbing Law how to hook goods out of a window; they both are workers in Iron, both are begotten in Idleness, both live by villainy, and both die by infamy▪ A smith is the maker and setter up of these two trades the hangman is the utter undoer of them. This Kerbing Law spreads itself into four main branches.  

He that hooks is called the Curber.  
He that plays the spy is the Warp.  
The Hook is the Curb.  
The goods are called Snappings.  
The Gin to open the window is a Tricker.   
The office of the Curber is for the most part betimes in the mornings (at the discharging of a watch) to be up more early than a noise of shrugging fiddlers; and the husbandry which he follows, is in the day time to watch what shops or windows stand fittest for his trade, which if he find easily to be opened, than the coney is in the pursuit without much fretting: But i● he must take pains for his living, out come his Trickers, & then) as if he were a brother of the Black-Art) doth he with those Iron engines, cut a bar of Iron in sunder, in such sort that scarce the standers by shall hear him. The window being thus open, and that he hath good hope to meet with fat Snappings, (or rich purchase) the warp bustles to play his part and watches with cats-eyes in the dark, looking (like one a squint, or as if he stood to catch Hares) two ways one to spy who comes, the other to note what comes out at the window: to carry which away he is furnished with a long Cloak. But first must the Curber play his prize, and that is with an Iron about nine foot in length, at whose end (being crooked) are three Tynes turned contrary, so that they catch every way, if any snappings be within their reach. This hook or Curb is made with joints like an Angling rod, and in the day time is conveyed into the form of a truncheon, and worn like a walking staff till night, when it is put to do other service. Whatsoever the Curber with his angle fishes for and takes, the warp bears it away, and he delivers it either to a Broker or some bawd (for they all are of one feather,) of which Receivers they have as present money for it, as if they traded with merchants. Then is there (belonging to this faculty) a Diver, and he is just in the nature of a Curberf, or as the one practices his villainy with a hook, so the Diver works his juggling feats by the help of a boy (called a Figger) whom he thrusts in at a casement, being so well studied that he hath the principles of the Black Art, and can pick a lock if it be not to much cross warded: this Figger delivers to the Diver what snappings he finds in the shop or chamber.   

The Prigging Law.  
BEing weary with going thus far on foot, let us now (sithence we have overtaken a horseman) get up and ride along with him. Yet now I look upon him well, it is more safety and butter policy to let him ride by himself, for he rides circuit with the Devil, and Dericke must be his host, and Tyburn the june at which he will light. This ranckrider is of the family of Knights e●●ant, or of those wandering Rogues that march in the first files of my book, his name is a Prigger, deriving his title from his practice, which is called the Prigging Law, whose grounds are the cleanly and cunning staaling of horses.  
This Prigging Art runs into six rivers, all of them falling into one stream, and all of them flowing from one head.  

He that steals the horse is called the Prigger.  
The horse is called a Prancer.  
The seller away of the stolen horse is a Martar.  
The Tolling house is called All-hallows.  
The tiler is the Rifler.  
The sureties at the toll-booke are called Querries.  
A Prigger on foot is called Trayler.   
The Prigger if he be a lance-man (that is to say, one that is already horsed) then rides he in state, attended by followers, who are either like his servants in liveries, or in the hat it of gentlemen, or most commonly in the shapes of Drovers: in this equipage do they walk up and down medowos and pastures or other enclosed grounds, as if their purpose were to buy cattle, whereas their eyes are only busied in noting horses, that are worth the stealing. & whether their heels are fettered with horse●locks or no. The first circle being drawn in the day time, the next night following our Priggers fall to conjuring, and by the spells of the Black Art, pick open the Tramelles or locks, and then like Bats or Owls away they fly over hedge and ditch out of those quarters. The owners in the morning may smell out their footsteps and see which way they are rid post but unless either the Devil himself either went with a candle and lantern before them, the Priggers would never be found, or else carried them on his back, and bid them to hold fast by his horns whilst he galloped, it were not possible to overtake them, For this policy they use, if the Prigger steal a horse in York-shiere, he sells him in Surrey, Kent or Sussex; and their martars (so called of hunting Mort● or Fairs) who receive them at the Priggers hands, chop them away in some blind fairs or other after they have kept them a month or two, till the breath of the Hue and Cry be blown over.  
If the horse be of any value and much inquired after, or carry such brands or eare-marks about him, that they cannot put him off without danger, then do these Prigges brand him with a crosse-brand on the former, or take away his eare-marke, and so keep him at hard meat till he be perfectly recovered, or else will they sell him in Cornewal or Wales, if he be fetched out of Cumberland, Lincolnshire, Norfolk or S●ffolke. But if the horse be openly coloured and without Brandes, then have they shifts to spot them so strangely, that a man shall hardly know his own horse if he meet him as to mark a black-horse with saddle-spots, or to star him in the forehead, and change his tail, the secrets of which are not fit in print to be discovered, least laying open the abuse, I should teach some how to practise it.  
This is the life of the Prigger, who travels up and down the whole kingdom upon his Gelding of 20▪ and 40. pound price, and is taken for a man of good worth, by his outward show, being (amongst his own fraternity of horse-stealers) called a Prigging lance-man. But he that borrows a ●ag out of another man's pasture, and cares not so he may get money for him, how he puts him away, only to supply his wants, is called a Trayler: These Traylers' trot upon the hoof, and are footmen, mean in apparel, though not mean in their thieving trade: you shall have them attired like plain country grans, walking (like our threadbare gallants in Paul's) in boots without spurs, & sometimes without boots, long staves on their necks, and black buckram bags at their backs, as if they were Lawyers Clients, and carried letters up and down: But those buckram bags are the horses wardrobe: In those bags do these sneaking Traylers put saddle, bridle, spurs, stirrups, and stirrup leathers, all this hackney household stuff being made so quaintly, that the deep slop of a hose is able to hide it: for the saddle is fashioned without any tree (yet hath it cantle & bolsters) but artificially quilted together with cloth & bombast, and with such ●oldes that it may easily be wrapped up in a little room: the stirrups go with vices and gins, that one may put them into a pair of gloves, so likewise do the spurs, and then a little white leather headstall and reins, with a small scottish brake or snaffle, all of them so neatly framed, that a small bag will contain them. And look how the Lance-man rides post when he fits upon his prey, so when the Trayler, is in the Saddle, away he gallops as if every jade of seven nobles price ● were a winged Pegasus, selling him as far off from the place where he stole him, as possibly he can.  
Now because these Priggers though they break the law in one point, yet they make it whole in another, and very orderly come to the Toll-booke, bringing two of their own religion) civilly attired (fitting the place) who not only affirm but offer to depose that they know the horse to be his own that sells it; yet are these caitiffs no better than old knights of the post that will perjure themselves for pots of Ale, and never s●w perhaps either the Prigger, or the Prancer before: these wicked Elders, having for villainies been banished out of Westminster Hall, or for their perjuries stood and lost their ears on the pillory, retire themselves into the country, and profess this kind of life, being by the horse-stealers called (though they are far unworthy of so good a mame) Querries: leaving whom (with the horsemen their good Lord and Masters) either to an amendment of manners, or to the mercy of the Hangman, who must teach them to ride his wooden curtal, let us, because we are now lifting them out of the saddle, turn over a new leaf, and read a lecture in the Lifting law.   

The Lifting Law.  
THe Lifting Law, is not the Law of Porters, who live by lifting, & cry to another, lend me your hand, when honestly they are to carry a barthen for a penny, and safely to deliver it to the owner back again: but this Law teacheth a kind of lifting of goods clean away. In such liftings are three sorts of levers used to get up the baggage. viz:  

He that first stealeth the parcel is called The Lift.  
He that receives it is the Marker.  
He that stands without and carries it away, is the Santar.   
The goods thus purchased, is called Garbage, which Garbage is sometime plate or jewels, sometimes pieces of velvet, sometimes cloaks or Lawyers gowns, sometimes one thing sometimes another.  
The practitioners of this lifting Law, take several degrees; for some of them (& they are the Punies) are but base Rogues, that live by lifting quart pots, platters, and such 〈◊〉 out of Tippling houses, under colour of spending two or three Pots of Ale. These are the rascallity of this Herd. But the Gentleman Lifter walks with his Marker at his heels, as if he were a Country Gentleman of 500 a year, and coming into a Mercers or goldsmiths shop, presently casts by his cloak (to colour his intents) the Marker standing bareheaded not far from him his worship then calls for a bolt of Satin, Velvet, cloth of gold or silver; or any of the richest commodities: & not liking the pile colour or brack, his eye must have the choice of more, the Marker in mean time whilst the Mercer is busy and turns his back, hath the Garbage thrust towards him by the Lifter, and conveys it under his cloak, the Sentar who walks in the street, passing then in great haste by the door, is called back by the Marker, as if he were such a Gentlemans, Knights, or Nobleman's servant: but the Sentar swears he cannot stay, the Marker tells him he must needs have one word with him, and so stepping along with him some part of the way, secretly conveys the Garbage to the Sentar.  
Other Lifts there are, that haunt noblemen's houses, at Marriages or solemn Revelings in Christmas, and the Hals of companies when they make Feasts, at which times they lift away Goblets or other pieces of Plate, nappery, or any thing worth the venturing for.  
Others ply Counsellors Chambers, that are well clyented, and sit down in the outer rooms like country men, having black boxes by their sides, and papers in their hand: but their attendance is not for counsel, nor to pay any fees, but to Lift away Gowns or Cloaks, by the rules of their own Law. The like pair of Indentures do they draw in shops, between Scriveners and themselves.  
Another more cunning than all these Lifting, is when in an evening, a Batfowler walks up and down the streets, and counterfeits that he hath let fall a Ring, a jewel, or a piece of Gold, requesting some Apprentice (when there is but one in the shop) ●o lend him his candle a while to find his losses, who simply doth so but the Lifter poring a good while and not meeting with his ring lets the candle in the end slip out of his fingers, and whilst the apprentice steps in to light it again, the Sentar or he himself steals what● garbage they can finger, and are gone in the mean time.  
You have another kind of Lifter, or more properly a cunning night-shifter, and it is thus. You shall have a fellow, that is an evening or might time, or sometime at noon days, as he likes the company, and sorts his opportunity, that will wilfully drop sometime a spoon, other while a ring, or else some piece of coined money, as the likeness of gold and silver and so spurning it afore them in the view of others, to the end they should cry half part, which he taking hold of, saith, nay by my tr●th, what will you give me and take it all? and so some greedy ●ool●s offer thus much, thinking it gold, which the Lifter takes, as knowing it sergeant, and so are they cunny-cought.  
Then is there a kind of Lift; who like a juggler doth all his ●eates of himself not caring for the help of others, he goes attired like a Servingman, booted and spurred and dirty as if he had new ridden: his haunts are the best towns in the country upon market days, but most commonly Fairs: the birds he watches for are Knights, esquires, or Gentlemen that light at the greatest Inns, whether most resort is, who shall no sooner come from horse but this Lifter is ready to hold his stirrup, or to walk his horse as officiously as if he wore his cloth: So that to the Guest he seems to be ●ne to be belonging to the house and to the servants of the house he appears to be a follower of the Gentleman newly alighted. But the guest being departed from his Inn to the town, or into the Fair, back comes this counterfeit Blue coat, running in all haste for his masters cloak-bag or portmanteau, and calr to the ostler or Chamberlain by his dame to deliver it, because some things must be taken out for his Knight or the Gentleman his Master, that are in it. The prey is put (hereupon) into the vulture's talons, and away flies he presently to his n●st, to feed and fat his ravenous gorge with the garbage which he hath gotten.  
But what nests think you they fly to? marry to the house either of some notorious trebble-chind ba●de (in whose beds commonly these Serpents lie lurking (who keeps a tippling house, and brings up young Trugs (under the the colour of filling Ca●s) that are Harlots to the Lifts, or else to the shops of certain brokers, who traffic only in this kind of merchandise and by bills of sale (made in the name of Robin-goodfellow and his crew) get the goods of honest Citizens into their hands, either detaining them so long in their chests till they be no more sought after, or else so altering them that the Owners shall hardly know them. Thus the Lift and his mates prepare the lime-twigs and catch the bird, but the Bawd and Broker eat the flesh and give the other only the feathers.   

The High-Law.  
ALl this while have I read unto you the beggarly Law, and base common Laws of Villainy, by which the Outlaws of a kingdom, and Outcasts of a well governed Commonwealth, maintain their damnable courses. Now must you cast up your eyes and look aloft, if you have a desire to behold the picture of the High Law: which taketh that name from the high exploits that are acted by it: the Scholars that learn it are called High Lawyers; yet they never walk to Westminster to plead, though oftentimes they are called to the Bar, but than it is to have them to Hold up their hands, that the hangman may tell them their fortune. All the former laws are attained by wit, but the High Law, stands both upon Wit and Manhood. For the High Law is nothing else but taking a purse by the highway-side, so that to be a good practitioner in this Law▪ a man needs no more but a bold stern look, a good heart, and a good sword: the cases that he is to plead upon, is only Stand and deliver, All travelers are so beaten to the trials of this law, that if they have but rode over Shooter's Hill, or Salisburie-plaine, they are as perfect in the principles of it, as if they had been 7. years in the company of High Lawyers. The Counsel a High Lawyer gives is common, but his sees are unreasonable, for he strips his Clients of all. The motions which he makes are both in Term and out of Term; I shall not need therefore to open any of his Cases, But only will tell you thus much, that this high law is comprehended in five Volumes, viz.  

The th●efe chat commits the Robbery, and is chief clerk  
to Saint Nichela●, is called the High Lawyer.  
He that setteth the watch is a Scripper.  
He that stands Sentinel and does watch, is an Oak.  
He that is robbed, is the Martin.  
When he yieldeth, it is called Stooping.   
All the shires in England have seen these High law matters tried, and therefore if any would know them or the professors of them to a hair▪ let him but step into the Old-baily at any Sessions, and he shall hear more.   

The Sacking Law.  
THe companion of a Thief is commonly a Whore; it is not a●isse therefore, to pinneon them together: for what the thief gets the strumpet spends. The trade of these talebearers goes under the name of the sacking law; and rightly may it be called sacking, for as in the sacking of a City, all the villainies in the world are set abroach, so when a Harlot comes to the sacking of a man's wealth and reputation (for she besiegeth both together) she leaves no stratagem unpractised to bring him to confusion. Westminster and Holborn have chambers full of these students of the Sacking law. In Clerken well, they had wont and are still well cliented: White Friars is famous for their meeting: The spital flourishes with the young fry that are put to it to learn it. Sacks come to these Mills every hour, but the Sacking-Law empties them faster than a Miller grinds his bushels of corn. He that hath a lust to practise this Law, must be furnished with these five books. viz.  

The Bawd, who if she be a woman is called a Pandress.  
The Apple-squire, who is to fetch in wine.  
The Whore who is called the commodity.  
The whorehouse, which is called a Trugging place.   
These five Authors are so well known, and have been so turned over leaf by leaf, that every man (almost) that lives in sight of the smoke of the City, hath them at his finger's ends, or if he cannot, it is an easy matter to find them by a Table. I will only refer you to the suburbs. But there is a second part of this Sacking-Law, and that instructs Punks to attire themselves neatly in summer evenings, and about ten or eleven of the clock at night to walk up and down the most peopled streets of the City, very soberly & gingerly, till the wine (by one Gull or other) be offered, which with a little entreaty she takes; but being in the midst of their bowls, or perhaps the silly coney being trained home to a lodging, where he falls to nibbling; in comes a Ruffian with a drawn rapier, calls the Punk (as she is) damned whore, asks what Rogue that is, and what he does with his wife? The conclusion of all this counterfeit swaggering being a plot betwixt this panderly ruffian and the whore to geld the silly fool of all the money he hath in his purse, and sometimes to make him (rathe● than his credit should be called into question) to seal a bill or bond for other sums of money at such and such days, and so send him packing, when he hath paid too dear for a bad dish of meat which he never tasted▪ the base Apple-squire and his young mistress, laughing to see what a woodcock they pulled, and sharing the feathers between them. But when such comedies (of the Sacking law) as these, are played▪ then the Actors have other names than are set down before, and these they be: 

The whore is then called the Traffic.  
The man that is brought in, is the Simpler.  
The Ruffian that takes him napping is the Crossbiter.     

The Figging Law.  
THe Parliament of these helhounds, it seems will soon break up, for they stand now only upon the least law; which they call Figging Law: in making of which law two persons have the chiefest voices, that is to say the Cutpurse and he Pickpocket, and all the branches of this law reach to none but them and such as are made free denizens of their incorporation. This Figging Law (like the body of some monstrous and terrible beast) stands upon ten feet, or rather lifts up proudly ten Dragonlike he●ds: the names of which heads are these. viz.  

He that cuts the purse is called the Nip.  
He that is half with him is the Snap, or the Cloyer.  
The knife is called a Cuttle-bung.  
He that picks the pocket is called a Foist.  
He that faceth the man is the Stale.  
The taking of the purse is called Drawing.  
The spying of this villainy is called Smoking or Boiling.  
The purse is the Bung.  
The money the Shells.  
The act doing is called Striking.   
This Figging Law hath more quirks and quiddities in it then any of the former; it is as dangerous to meddle with as the High-Law▪ in pleading whose cases men are at daggers drawing: the scholars of this Art are cunning Sophisters, and had need to have more eyes than two in one head, because the Arguments they hold, and their bold villainies which they practise are argued upon and justified to his teeth, with whom they contend. The Foist and the Nip (that is to say the Pocket di●er and the cut purse) are pew-fellows together and of one religion, but differ in some points. A purse well lined is the wet Eel they both bob for, but they strive to catch it by the tail after several fashions. For the Nip●works ●works with his knife, the Foist with his hand: the Nip cuts the purse, the Foist draw● the pocket: both their occupations are taught them by the Devil, yet they both brag of the excellency of them and are ready sometimes to stab one another, about defending which is best for the Foist counts himself the better man, and therefore is called (by the livery of his company) a gentleman Foist and so much scorns the title of a cut purse, that he wears not a knife about him to cut his own meat, le●t he be held in suspicion to be a Nip, which he esteems the basest office in the whole Army of Cheaters.  
These scholars of the Figging law, are infinite in number, their College is great, their orders many, and their degrees (which ar● given to them by the Seniors of the house) very ancient but very abominable.  
The language which they speak is none of those which came in at the confusion of Tongues, for neither infidel nor Christian (that is honest) understands it, but the Dialect is s●●h and so crabbed; that seven years study is little enough to reach ●o the bottom of it, and to make it run off glib from the tongue: by means of this Gibberish, they know their own nation when they meet, albeit they never saw one another before; and▪ ●o conformable are they to the ordinances of the Brotherhood, that whatsoever the wicked Elders amongst th●m shall prescribe, Actum est, 'tis a law, and they will not break it, yea ●ot th● proudest of them dare be so bold as to exercise his Art in any other place but in those that are appointed to him, nor once presume to set his foot into another's walk, but by licence of the Signiory.  
For that purpose therefore, (as if a whole kingdom were theirs) they allot such countries to this Band of Foists, such towns to those, and such a City to so many Nips: whereupon some of these Boot-halers are called Termers, and they ply Westminster Hal: Michaelmas Term is their harvest▪ and they sweaf in it harder than reapers or hay makers do at their works in the heat of summer▪ no Counsellor▪ Attorney, Pettifogger nor Solicitor is up earlier than they: nor at the Hall sooner than they: when Clients begin to come crowding in, watermen ply not their fares more nimbly than the Nips, & Foists bestir themselves to pick up their shells; the hall and the old palace are their Hives▪ and they work in them like Bees: the Exchequer Chamber, star-chamber, king's-bench and Common-pleas and Chancery are the beds of flowers, to which they fly humming too and fro continually to suck the honey of gold and silver. If a poor Client do but stand by his Lawyer, whilst he is pleading, and draws out his purse to pay his fees for counsel, or to the Court for dispatch of his business, these furies are sure to be at his elbow, watching (with Hawks eyes) on which side he puts up his purse, to that sid● they fly, and if their talents can but touch it, it is their own. Others of them have all the flesh and fish markets allowed them for their walks, as Cheapside, East-cheap, the shambles, both Fishstreets, the Stocks, and the Borough in Southwark, in which places these faithful Stewards of Lucifer's household, cheapon all commodities, only to note what money wives or servants that come to buy, have in their purses, and where they put it up, which being well observed, the Stall plies his market, and follows him or her (whose silver is condemned) till they come to a press of people: then does the Stall keep a thrusting and a justling, whilst in the mean time the Foist is either in their pocket, or the Nip hath the purse sa●t by th● strings. Others haunt Alehouses only, & the Bear-garden: some have their precinct lying in the walks of Paul's, their hours of meeting there being between 10 and 11. the strokes they strike being sometimes in the middle I'll, if it be in Term time, when the walks are full, but most commonly at the doors of the Church, which they will choke, and strive for passage, whilst another does the ●eat. At running at Tilt, the L. majors day, any great shooting, any fray, any solemn arraignment, or execution, is better to these Hellhounds, than a quarter day is to a Landlord, or then five Sessions are to the hangman. Yea so fearless are these Devils to be thrown headlong & quick into the pit of damnation, that even in Gods own house & the sacred Temple (do they desperately commit their villainies, standing most devoutly with eyes elevated up to heaven before the preacher, where the press of people is thickest, whilst their hands are nibbling in honest men's pockets for their purses, who are careless of such worldly matters there, as not mistrusting that any so bad-minded dare enter into so holy a place. These Nips and Foists go oftentimes cleanly away with the shells which they get, but oftentimes are they d●gged by certain fellows (called Cloyers) who hang upon them like Burrs, and are mor● troublesome than wasps: for no sooner is a Bung drawn, but the Cloyer steps in for his Tenth, which he calls Snappage, if the Nip deny Snappage, the Cloyer forthwith Boils him, that is bewrays him or seizeth on his cloak.  
You must understand likewise, that both of Nips and Foists there are two sorts, for there be City Nips and country Nips whose office is to haunt nothing but Fairs: these country nips nevercome into London to do any piece of service, but a● Bartholomew-tide only. Between these two sects is mortal enmity, for if the City Foist spy one of the country Foists in london, he forthwith labours and lays wait to smoke or Boil him, the like does the country Nip or Foist by him of the City. There are also women Foists and Nips as well as men, but far more dangerous than 〈◊〉 men: All the troops of both sexes being subject to the disci●●ne of the Grand Nips & folsts, and from whom, the better to receive directions both what to do, and what quarters to keep (●or they shift their walks according to the pleasure of the chief rangers, they have a certain house, sometimes at one end of the town, sometimes at another, which is their hall; at this Hall the whole company do● meet very orderly: by which means whensoever any notable or workmanlike stroke is stricken, though it were as far as the North-borders, yet ●an the rest of the Fig-b●ie● here resident in London, tell by whom this worthy Act was played.  
At this solemn meeting in their Hall, they cho●se Wardens, and Steward: the Wardens office is to establish wholesome Laws to keep life in their rotten common wealth, and to assign out to every man his Stations. The treasurers office is very truly (though he be an arrant theete) to render an account of such moneys as are put into his hands upon trust: for of every purse (that is cleanly conveyed and hath good store of Shells in it) a rateable portion is delivered (in Bank as it were) to the Treasurer, to the intent that when any of them is taken and cast into prison, a Flag of truce may presently be hung out, and composition offered to the wronged party, thereby to save a brother of the society from riding westward. This had wont to be an order amongst them: But now the Under keepers of Newgate, (if complaint be made to them for the loss of any purse, tha●e a trick to get a warrant, into which warrant they put the names of nine or ten of the most notorious Foists and Nips that are free of their jail (which they call Whittington College) and thos● Nips or Foists do the jailers nip, till the money perhaps double) be restored, albeit not one of them that are specified in the warrant were guilty of the fact: This trick doth greatly impoverish the tradesmen of this mystery, and may in time utterly overthrow the Students of the Figging Law.   

The five jumps at Leapfrog.  
THe whole volume of these detestable Laws is now read over ●to catch a heat therefore after so long fitting, let us exercise ourselves awhile at a new play, called the five jumps at Leapfrog. The property of the game at Leapfrog, is (as every apprentice and Carter knows) for one man to stoop, to let another come over him, so in these jumps the running Cheaters sweat only to make a man stoop so low, that they may break his back, and then they ride over his misery with laughter.  
The first jump is called Horse-coursing, and that is done thus: A fellow in good clothes and with an honest face to the eye, hires of a carrier an Nag to ride along with him to Cambridge, Oxford Norwich, or any great town of trade: but let the journey be never so long, this Rider will end it in a forenoon at most, for whilst the Carrier is busy about his téeme on the way, and looking to his charge, my horse-courser steps a●ide into some by-lane, and lights at some paltry town near the city where he will lie, till he have in (capons and wine) eaten up the carriers beast alive; and then departs on foot, sending the poor man word where his prancer stands at rack and manger, who if he will have him must disburse forty shillings or three pound for his jades diet. The Hackney-men of Rochester have been oftentimes come over with this jump at Leapfrog and know the game well, for a man cannot name it but they are ready to give it a curse.  
The second jump is called carrying of stones, and that is performed in this manner: A crew of sharking companions (of which there be sundry consorts lurking about the suburbs of this City) being driven out of means, by leading base and idle lives, or else by their riotous expenses amongst whores, practise to live upon the fee-simple of their wits; & having amongst them all some little money left (which they call their Shooing-horn) they seek out some blind victualling house, or Cook's house, without the bars, whose Host (if it be possible) is either an ass easy to be ridden, or else a common drunkard. In this Colt's house will they sit carousing half cans day and night, and pay royally at first for what they call, that shooing-horn of theirs drawing the Host and Hostess on to believe they shall be made for ever by these guests: who to gull the poor Goosecap the better, draw all their acquaintance they can to the house, never either drinking or feeding, but mine Host must sit at the board's end like a Magnifico in pomp, with his ale●dropt greafie doublet shining by candle light, as if it were an old rusty Armour scurvily scoured. But when these Horseleeches have sucked their guts full, or rather the pitifully complaining Hosts guts empty, that he finds by his scores he can trust no more, then do they at one time or other talk of state matters, or of religion when the goodman of the house can scarce stand on his legs v●der his own roof, and trip him in some words, which the next day (being told of it, and the words justified to his face) he knows he dares not answer; with which hook holding his nose to the grindstone, they write their mind in great round O's of chalk, behind a door, which O's they call stones: the weight of them being such, that look how many shillings they make, so many times the wretched Hostess cries O, as groaning under the burden. Now Sir, of these O's, twenty shillings make a load, and ten pound make a barge-full: which when they have well frughted, these Dunkirks h●yst sail and to Sea again, they go in another vessel to find another Brazeeleman, that is to say, into another tippling house to find another jade whom they may all saddle and get up upon: if their last host follow them with a Bailiff or a Sergeant, they only hold up a finger, naming a Pursuivant and cry Mum, no more mine Host, you wot what, which words are of more power to blow him away, then if you fired him thence with trains of gunpowder. By means of this jump, some Victuallers have leapt clean out of doors, and with the fall have been ready to lie in the streets.  
The third jump is called Fawning those that leap at it are Fawneguests, and that is done in the edge of an evening, when a Cheater meeting a stranger in the dark and taking him for another, gets the stranger by some sleight to a Tavern, where calling for two pints of sundry wines, the drawer setting the wines down with two cups, as the custom is, the jumper tastes of one pint (no matter which) and finds fault with the wine, saying 'tis too hard, but rose-water and sugar would send it down mecrily, and for that purpose takes up one of the cups telling the stranger he is well acquainted with the Boy at the Bar, and can have two penny worth of rose-water for a penny of him, and so steps from his seat, the stranger suspecting no harm, because the Fawne-guest leaves his cloak at the end of the table behind him. But this jump coming to be measured, it is found that he that went to take his rising at the bar, hath stolen ground and out-leaped the other more feet than he can recover in haste, for the cup is leapt away with him, for which the woodcock that is taken in the spring, must pay fifty shillings or three pound, and hath nothing but an old threadbare cloak not worth 10 greats to make amends for his losses.  
The fourth jump is called Fooletaking, and that is done several ways, sometimes by setting a couple of subtle rogues to ●●ng ballads on a stall, till a number of people pr●sse about them to buy their trash, and then their purses being discovered, are quickly in the nips fingers. Others are Foole-taken by letting chambers to fellows like servingmen, in the name of such an esquire, or such a Knight, or such a captain new come from the low countries, bringing in a trunk exceeding heavy, and crambd full of brickbats, which is left in the hired chamber, and five times the value of it li●ted away in stead of it. With this ●ump many maid servants, and their wealthy Masters have been overreached by sergeant kinsmen that have brought a cheese or a gammon of Bacon to the poor wench, claiming kindred of her whether she will or no, and afterwards being (for his cheese and bacon) invited to the Citizen's table have in the night time taken away plate, or other commodities in exchange of his white-meats.  
The fifth jump is called Spoon-meat, and that is a mess of knavery served in about Supper time in the edge of an evening likewise, It is done thus: A silly fellow in show, attired like a clown, spurns (being near some candle that stands on a stall) a paper before him, in which is wrapped up a spoon, taking up which and looking on it by the light, and making it known (by his loud talking and wondering what he hath found) that he took it up by chance, people flock about him, and imagine it is a silver and gilt spoon, for it looks very fair, but he seeming to be an innocent coxcomb, kn●wes not h● says, what he should do with such a gew-gawe: whereupon every one is catching at it, and offers him money for it, he wishes he had rather found money then such a babble, for he eats not his pottage in plate; in the end, some For amongst all the cubs that stand about him, whispers in his care, to have it from all the rest and thrusts a crown privily into his hand. The jumper takes it▪ and sneak's away, the other gets home as fast as he can, longing till he call his wife, all his household and neighbours about him, to show what a pen●worth he met with, but the guilt spoon coming to be tried of what metal he is made, the poor man's money proves copper, and he himself is laughed at for a Coxcomb.  
How long shall I sail upon these godless waters? Is it not time to get a shore? Is it not fit that I should now sound a retreat and not weary my pe● in the excecution of such base and barbarous minded Caitiffs? What a battle have I undertaken? and with what an ignoble enemy? to contend with whom, is an act inglorious, and to conquer whom (but that they are open and professed foes to the Republic, to honesty, to civility, and to all humanity) were as much dishonour as by them to be overcome. Who would imagine that a Kingdom so fertile in all sorts of wholesome discipline, there should grow up such rank and such pestilent beds of hemlock? that in the very heart of a state so rarely governed and dieted by good laws, there should breed such loathsome and such ulcerous impostumes? that in a City so politic, so civil, and so severe, such ugly, base and bold impieties dare show their faces? What an Army of insufferable Abuses, defestable Vices, most damnable Villainies, abhomiable Pollutions, inexplicable mischiefs, sordid inquinations, horrible and Hel-hound-like-perpetrated flagitious enormities have been here mustered together? under what devilish commanders are they conducted? what colours of damnation do they fight under, what dismal Ensinge do they spread? what forces do they bring into the field? how full of courage they are? how full of cunning? how politic are the Ringleaders of these Fairies? how resolute are all the troops? what strange armour have they (of subtlety, & desperate boldness) to encounter and set upon their opposites? what Artillery have they to batter down, Order, Law, Custom, plain dealing, and all the good guards and defences of Government? What remaineth therefore (in an assault so dangerous to a Common wealth, and so hotly and daily prosecuted) but that justice herself must come into the field, leading with her all her forces? That the Triple Body of the state may knit all their Nerves together and sit in Counsel, setting down stratagems and laws how to raze for ever (out of so noble a Kingdom) such Rebels to the peace and honour of it? That the Reverend judges may out of a detestation of the lives of these monsters, lock up their eyes and ears from pity, when any of these Savages are caught and brought before them: That all inferior ministers of justice, may be vigilant, faithful and severe in haunting them into gaols, that are the fittest toils for them to fall into, and that the hangman may not lie lazing and complain for want of work, so many infected bodies being to be found in every corner of the Land, whom no medicine can cure, but the physic which he bestows upon him at the Gallows? Where I leave them, as to the ●hauen in which they must all cast Anchor, if Dericks Cables do but hold and unless they am●nd. Give thanks to the Bellman of London, if either profit or pleasure be gained by this Discovery.    

Operis Peroratio. A short Discourse of Canting, which is the Langguage spoken by all the Ragged Regiment, that serve under the colours of the Bellman.  
THus ha●h our Bellman (like a faithful & watchful Sentinel) wallet his reund: An army of a most strange people hath he mustered together: In their true colours of villainy hath he drawn these Freebooters▪ their habits, their behaviours and their properties, are to the life discovered: yet all this is but a dumb picture. It shall not be amiss therefore it I give speech unto it by lending it a tongue. In doing which you may perceive how politic a Commonwealth these Outlaws of the Kingdom maintain among themselves, in devising not only strange and subtle Stratagems to uphold them in a base and idle licentious kind of life, but also in inventing a language which none understand but those that are Students in their damned Art, the better to cover their villainies, when they (in their talk) practise to set them abroach.  
My purpose notwithstanding in this is not to bestow upon you so liberal and full a discourse, as this matter doth require, but only at this time to give you a taste of that which in a second part of this book shall (God willing) be more amply discovered. In which second part, our Bell man of London shall bring to light a number of more notable enormities (daily hatched in this Realm) then ever have yet been published to the open eye of the world. These are small spots, the other are the great blemishes, or rather the Ulcerous sores that make the body of kingdom appear ugly and deformed. A larger net shall then be spread, and more dangerous serpents shall fall into the snare, to the intent that their stings may be pulled out, and all their poison may be drawn from them, to make those that as yet know not how infectious they are, be afraid to approach or to be in sight of such devouring Monsters. But because I will not have them borne before their time (being yet but in the shell) lest by that means they miscarry in their brood, and so you should be deceived in your expectation: let us in the mean time stand with attentive ears, and listen to an Vprigh●-man, whom I espy ready to encounter with a Wilde-Roague. And this is their Dialogue.  

A short Dialogue between an Vprightman and a Rogue in the Canting-language.  
The Upright Cofe Canteth to the Rogue.  1 Vpr. 
Been lightmen to thy quarrones: in what lipken hast thou lipped in this darkmans? whether in a libbege, or in the Strummell?  2 Rog. 
I couched a Hogshead in a Skipper this darkmans.  3 Vpr. 
I tower the strummell trine upon the ●●bchett and tog●an.  4 Rog. 
I say by the Solomon I will lage it off with a gage of been bows: then cut to my nose watch.  5 Vpr. 
Why? hast thou any lower in thy bung to bows?  6 Rog. 
But a flag, a win, and a make.  7 Vp. 
Where is the ken that hath the been bows?  8 Rog. 
A bene Mort, hereby at the sign of the prancer.  9 Vp. 
I cut, it is choir bows, I bowsd a flag the last darkmans.  10 Rog. 
But bows there a board & thou shalt have benship: tower ye, yonder is the ken▪ dup the Giger, and mawnd that is benship.  11 Vp. 
This bows is as good as Rome bows▪ now I tower that been bows makes nase nabs, mawnd of this Mort, what been peck is in her ken?  12 Rog. 
She hath a cackling cheese, a grunting chief, ruff, peck, Cassan; and poplars of yarum.  13 Vpr. 
That is beneship to our watch; now we have well bowsd, let us strike some chete: yonder dwelleth a choir cuffen, it were benship to ●ill him.  14 Rog. 
Nay, b'ing we a waist to the high pad, the ruffmen is by.  15 Vpr. 
So may we happen on the harman's, and cly the Ia●ke, or to the choir ken, and scour choir crampinges, and so to trimming on the chetes.  16 Rog. 
The Ruffian cly thee, farewell and betrinde.  
This is their phrase, this the Rhetoric of our English Rogues and this (upon advice or occasion) they vary, putting out some words, & in their stead inventing others more new. This was none of the language that was spoken at the confusion of tongues, but this is a mere confusion in itself. And because you have no Dictionaries to give you the English of these words, you shall have the self same companions speak the same Dialogue in their own natural language.   

The Vprightman speaketh to the Rogue.  1 Vpr. 
GOod morrow to thy body, in what house hast thou lain all night? in a bed or in the straw?  2 Rog. 
I slept in a barn this night?  3 Vpr. 
I see the straw hang upon thy cap and coat.  4 Rog. 
I swear by the Mass I will wash it off with a quart of good drink, and then talk to me what thou wilt.  5 Vpr. 
Why? hast thou any money in thy purse?  6 Rog. 
But a groat, a penny, and a half penny.  7 Vpr. 
Where is the house that has the good drink?  8 Rog. 
'tis a good wench hereby at the sign of the horse.  9 Vpr. 
I say 'tis small and scurvy drink, I drunk a groat● here last night.  10 Rog. 
But drink there a shilling and thou shalt have very good, see, yonder is the house, open the door and call for the best.  11 Vpr. 
This drink is as good as wine, now I see that good drink makes a drunken head: ask of this wench what meat she hath in the house?  12 Rog. 
She hath a Hen, a Pig, bacon, cheese, and milke-pottage.  13 Vpr. 
That's very good for us now we have drunk, le's steal somewhat? yonder dwells a churlish cormorant, 'twere a good deed to rob him.  14 Rog. 
So we may chance to sit in the stocks, and be either whipped, or had to prison, and there be shackled with bolts and Fetters, and then to be hanged on the gallows.  15 Vpr. 
The devil take thee, farewell and he hanged.  
More of this Canting, with other matters of more worthy note shall be handled by our Bellman at his second walking up and down the City.  
FINIS