jests to make you Merry: With The Conjuring up of Cock Watt, (the walking Spirit of Newgate) To tell Tales. Unto which is Added, the misery of a Prison, and a Prisoner. And a Paradox in praise of sergeant.  
Written by T. D. and George Wilkins.  
Imprinted at London by N. O. for Nathaniel Butter, dwelling near to St. Augustine's Gate, at the sign of the pied Bull. 1607.   

To the Reader.  
Books are a strange commodity, the estimation of them riseth and falleth faster than the exchange of money in the Low countries, which altars more often then the english man doth the fashion of his apparel. Men that write to feed fantastic humours, are no better than Apes, that show their tricks to others, the doing of which is painful to themselves, and at going away are but laughed at, and so nice are our Paul's Churchyard-walkers in beholding these pictures, that to day they cry excellent at the drawing of that, upon which to morrow they will cast a mewing countenance, there's no one Stationer stall can fit all customers with books to their diet, nor can all men that write (if all that can but speak should write) fit some Stationers. Go to one and offer a copy, if it be merry, the man likes no light stuff, if sad, it will not sell. Another meddles with nothing but what fits the time, I would have his shop stuffed with nothing but proclamations, because he lies i'th' wind only for the change of weather. Since therefore that neither hot nor cold can please, neither strait nor crooked, can serve as a measure, to some mouths; what a miserable and endless labour does he undertake that in a few scribbled sheets hopes to wrap up the loves of all men. Better it were for him in my judgement to turn his leaves into such paper-kites as boys run after, whilst they fly in the Air, then to publish his wits in Follio, and yet be counted but a fool for his labour. 〈◊〉 notwithstanding, with such a tickling Itch is this printed Ambition troubled, that some are never at better ease than when they are scratching upon paper, and find no sweetness but in drawing blood. Of those sharp-toothed dogs you shall find me none, I hold no whip in my hand, but a soft feather, and there drops rather water th●n gall out of my quill, if you taste it and find it pleasing. I am glad, if not, I cannot be much sorry, because the Cook knew not your diet, so that his error was his ignorance, and ignorance is a venial sin to be pardoned.  
Nam veniam pro laud pete: Laudate●● abundè  
Non fastiditus fi tibi (Lector) er●.  
T. D. and G. W.   

jests to make you Merry.  
What a jest is.  
A jest is the bubbling up of wit. It is a Baum which being well kindled maintains for a short time the heat of Laughter. It is a weapon wherewith a 〈◊〉 does oftentimes fight, and a wise man defends himself by. It is the 〈◊〉 of good company. if it be seasoned with judgement: but if with too much tartness, it is hardly digested but turn to quarrel. A 〈◊〉 i● tried as powder is, the most sudden is the best. It is a merry ●●●deman and hath a brother so like him, that many take them for Twins: For the one is a jest spoken▪ the other is a jest done. Stay but the reading of this book● some half an hour, and you shall be brought acquainted with both.  

The 1. jest.  
A Fellow that (to be a fool in print) had spent the stock of his wits upon ink and paper▪ and made it into a book, offered it to sell a● diverse Stationer's 〈◊〉, but none would buy it: At the length 〈◊〉 came to one of the company, and swore to him he should not 〈◊〉 to fear to venture money upon it, 〈◊〉 it would be to him an everlasting book. Oh says the other than I will not meddle with it; everlasting books are ill commodities in our trade, bring me a book that will go away, and I am for you.   

The 2. jest.  
A justice of Peace found his man laying his mistress on the lips, at which the justice in a rage, and wrapping out a great oath, called him Rascal, and asked him what he did, why says the fellow (and swore as deep as he) I was kissing your wife. The justice told him if he took him kissing there again, he would make him kiss in another place. Truth sir (says the Servingman) had not you come in, I had kis● in another place indeed.   

The 3. jest.  
A Citizen meeting by chance a kinsman of his, about the Strand, that was come to the Term, asked him where he had been, who told him he had been at Westminster: And what news (quoth he) at Westminster; Mary says the other Lawyers get the Devil and all: What an Ass, replied the Citizen is the devil? if I were as he I would get some of them.   

The 4. jest.  
IN the queens time a couple of Merchants walking on the Change, amongst other news, the one told that other, he thought the peace between England and Spain would be broken: God help the poor justices then (answered the other) for if the peace b● broken, sure the justices of the Peace cannot be sound.   

The 5. jest.  
A Mad country Parson inviting certain of his friends to the eating of a tithe pig and some other good cheer, one of the guests brought along with him a Precisian, (which se● the person never could abide) and having earn'd once or twic● to the rest. At length he called aloud in latin to the Precisian (for he took him to be a scholar, because he went all in black) Heus domine, vis tu Comedere Turdum, vis ●u comedere ●artum, vis tu comedere pistum Fartum. At which the other blessing himself, to think that a Churchman should utter such filthy words (as he construed them) rose from the board and d●parted reproving the Parson for a beastly and unmannerly christian, whereas by Turdum he meant a black bird, that stood on the board, by Fartum a pudding, and by pistum fartum, a pan-pudding that's baked.   

The 6. jest.  
Do you see ponder bawd, says one to his companion (●tting in a playhouse together) she should have been burnt once in Paris for a martyr: A martyr quoth the other? why she has suffered for the truth here in London, for she was carted but last weeks.   

The 7. jest.  
Sirrah (says a justice to a bailie●●e, that had brought a cutpurse before him) keep that knave till I call for him anon when I am more at leisure: yes quoth the bailieffe, I will keep the knave for your worship.   

The 8. jest.  
A Woman seeing a tumult in the open street, about a man and a woman, asked one of the standers by, what the matter was: sa●es he▪ Thou art a whore; Thou art an arrant knave (says the woman) to call me whore, why about this (quoth the party that was asked the question) did those two fall out.   

The 9 jest.  
ONe called a Captain coward, and said he had no heart, it's no matter, quoth the Captain, I have legs.   

The 10. jest.  
WHat is the reason says, a Gentleman to his friend, that chess-play (being so witty a game) is not used so much now as it had wont to be: diverse reasons, says the others one is because Rooks stand too near the Bishops: another is because Knights had wont to be better than pawns, but now a good pawn is better th●● a Knight.   

The 11. jest.  
A Tailor in this Town maintained a whore besides his wise, who afterwards came to the knowledge of it: where upon, on● wondering how it should be discovered, because the Tailor was a close fellow, asked one of his neighbours, how the devil his wife could smell out his wench: oh; easily replied the other, for he kept her under his wife's nose.   

The 12. jest.  
An ancient Gentlewoman making her brag●, that she was descended from john of Gaunt: One that stood by, said he thought she was rather descended from William the Conqueror, because her face was so old.   

The 13. jest.  
ONe demanded of his friend what was the reason that when a man 〈◊〉 a light Wench, the ●●st word he speaks to her is, Gentlewoman will you go to the Tavern? O says the other, ● Leman is never good without wine.   

The 14. jest.  
A Couple of Servingmen, having drunk hard in Southwark, came to take water about ten or eleven of the clock at night, at S. Mary-overies stairs: But the M●●ne ●●ning, and a puddle of water lying before them, which th●y could not perfectly discern (without better ●ies) by reason that their shadows bid it, one of them ●●umbled and fel● in, labouring with his hands & feet as if he had been a swimming, his fellow● stood (so well as a man in his case could stand looking upon him & said: Art thou gone? Art thou gon● jesus recea●● thy soul, yet if thou canst but get the Temple stairs, theirs some hope thou shalt do well enough: tush says the other (that was down,) I look not to g●t, so I may save myself, I care for no more.   

The 15. jest.  
A Silly fellow being for some misdemeanour brought befor● the old Recorder, after some short examination, was (by him) demanded whom he seru●d; I serve (quoth the fellow) a poor kinsman of your good worship. A poor kinsman of mine thou varlet, who is that? look you says he, and drew from under his cloak a flute.   

The 16. jest.  
A Player riding with his fellows (in a year of Peregrination) up and down the countries, resolved to be merry, th● they ●ot little money, and being to pass through a Town, h●e gets a good way before the rest, crying (wi●h his drawn Rapier in his hand) which is the Constable's house where is the Constable; the dogs of the parrith at the no●se, fell to barking, the Thresher's came running out with their ●●●iles the Clounes with rakes & pitch-forks, ask without what the matter was, cried still, and you be men bring me to the Co●●●able. At last, the wise Gentleman appeared in his 〈◊〉: Are you the Constable says the player, yes that I am for fault of a better, quoth he, why then blurt Master Constable says the other, and clapping spurs to his horse, gallopd away amain, some of the companions laughing, others railing, the Constable swearing, and the rest of the players that came behind, post through the thickest of them, and laughing the whole Town to scorn, as if it had been the fool in a Comedy, which made the hob-nailewearers stamp ten times worse than they did before.   

The 17. jest.  
A Company of merry Gallants, coming in a winter night late from a Tavern, to increase that mirth in the streets (as they went along) which the wine had begotten in them before, fell to taking down of Lanterns that their hung out. And one of them being nibbling to untie the cord at which a Sconc● hung: a servant of the house by chance suddenly opened the door, and took him at his work, roughly ask him what he meant to do there, nothing Sir, says the other, but to s●uff your candle.   

The 18. jest.  
A Young man passing to his lodging somewhat late, was by the dreadful voice of browne-bilmen, called to come before the Constable; he did so, but perceiving him that sat there in the examiner's office to be no Constable, but knew him to be a bare Deputy, and had for wages served (for other men) some six or seven years together, the fellow gave him scurvy words, for which the Uice-regent of the Ward, grew so into choler that he swore, the great Turk should not ransom him from lying by the heels: nay more, he would execute justice in his own proper natural person, and lead him himself; he did so, and the other 〈◊〉 before, but in the middle of Cheapside be kneeled down, crying out aloud: O thou everlasting Constable, what meanest thou to do with me?   

The 19 jest.  
A Servingman bringing a Capon and white-broth to the table, stumbled & let all fall to the ground, for which his Master revilde him, and said, I could have done so much myself, I think so, quoth the fellow; any fool may do it, now 'tis done before him.   

The 20. jest.  
Upon a time when there was a great muster made by the City, of soldiers, a country fellow seeing them march through the streets, inquired of one that stood likewise by as a beholder, to what end these soldiers kept this marching? mary to Mile-end says the other: yea but to what end, are those Lighters and Boats, and Ships, providing on the River? quoth the country man why to Theames-end, answered the other, nay but then says he again, to what end should they make such ado both by Land and water? faith replied the other, to no End.   

The 21. jest.  
I Think (say some to his friend) I am the 〈◊〉 coxcomb living: truth, so think I, says the other: why should you think so (replied the first, and grew half angry) marry said the second, because you say so, & I hope none should know that ●●tthen yourself.   

The 22. jest.  
A Pair of Players growing into an emulous contention of one another's worth, re●ulde to put themselves to a day of hearing (as any Players would have done) but stood only upon their good parts. Why says the one, since thou wouldst same be taken for so rare a piece report before all these (for they had a small audience about them you must note) what excellent parts thou hast discharged? Mary says the other, I have so naturally played th● Puritan, that many took me to be one. True says the first again thou play'dst the Puritan so naturally, that thou couldst never play the honest man afterwards: but I (quoth he) have played the Sophy: the Sophy, replied the second: what a murrain was he? What was he says the other: why he was a Turk: right, quoth his adversary get to play as many Turks parts as thou canst, for ●●e be hanged if ever thou play'st a good christian.   

The 23. jest.  
A Gentlewoman coming to one that stood at a window reading a book, Sir (said she) I would I were your book, (because she lou●d the Gentleman,) So would I quoth he, I wish you were. But what book would you have me to be (said the other) if I were to be so? Mary, an Almanac (quoth the Gentleman) because I would change every year.   

The 24. jest.  
TWo Brother's meeting together, said the wealthier of them, to the other: And how goes the world Brother? what, you rub out, make shift to live Yes faith replied the second, I thank God, and live without shifting too.   

The 25. jest.  
A Citizen ●●tting with his wife at door, called his child to him (that was playing before them,) to give him an apple, and bid him say, thank you Father▪ the mother likewise was busy to teach him that lesson But a Gentleman passing by, just at the instant, (who belike had taken up of the wife, some of her husband's commodities) stepped to her, and whispering in her ear, asked if she were not ashamed to teach her child to lie being young: the husband seeing a stranger so saulie with his wife, grew half angry, and asked her what customer that was, & what he spoke in her ear: Nothing Sir (said she) but seeing me eat apples, he asked if I would have any cheese to my fruit.   

The 26. jest.  
WHat reason (says one so his friend) has your Lord to keep a fool? He hath no reason at all, answered the other.   

The 27. jest.  
THou art an arrant Beggar, says a Merchant to a Scholar: true Sir, (answered the Scholar) for I am an hone●● man: but you can be no Beggar, for all the city knows you Play the Merchant.   

The 28. jest.  
A Woman finding her husband reeling in the stre●tes, till he was unable to stand, railed upon him, and said: art not thou ashamed to lie like a drunken beast, thus in the open streets? thou liest like a sober whore as thou art, quoth he, if I were a beast, I would not lie drunk.   

The 29. jest.  
ONe that had been Knighted but lately, riding through Paul's churchyard, his wife, his chambermaid, the nurse, and two young children, sitting in the Coach with him, his son and heir, leading the way before: the creatures in blue, trotting too and too behind: Oh says a apprentice that ●●ood in his shop, to his fellow: By jove me thinks, it's a brave thing to be a Knight: A brave thing, quoth 〈◊〉 fellow: what an ass art thou: a man may have any thing for money.   

The 30 jest  
AN old man talking with his son, and comparing this Age, with that which he lived in, when he was a Boy: said, that now the world was clean found upside down: Nay that's not true father, (replied the other) for i● it were so, women should go with their heels upwards.   

The 31. jest.  
A Lady that by sitting to see a play at Court, came home late, called for victuals, and swore she was as hungry as a dog: It may be as a bitch Madam (said her page, standing by) else the comparison will not hol●.   

The 32. jest.  
A Fishmonger having lost all his money at dice, to another gamester, saving three or four shillings, clapped it all down on the board together: What do you set (said the other? this Dosser quoth the fishmonger) and then I have done.   

The 33. jest.  
ONe that had never been seen to handle weapon, being met with a great basket-hilt sword by his side was demanded, why he carried so much Iron about him. Mary said he, for four causes, to kill dogs, and to keep off Sergeants, to huff bawds, and to guard my whore.   

The 34. jest.  
A Young man, being taken by a watch in the day time, for an idle fellow, was by a Constable brought before one of the Sheriffs of London, and being examined what he was, and whom he had served, it was found that he had been in diverse services, but had shifted his Masters, almost every year whereupon the Sheriff said, he should go to bridewell, and there grind chalk. I am contented to do so, answered the fellow▪ but do me justice good Master Sheriff, let all your Officers h●● sent to grind chalk too, for I am sure they shift their Masters, every year aswell as I   

The 35. jest.  
A Barber standing very sadly at his shop door, one of his customers came to him, and asked him why he looked so scurvily: Oh said the Barber, my maid has had a sore mischance, my man has played the knave with her, and got her with child: Call you that a mischance quath the other? of all chances in the dice, I warrant your maid likes that best: your man has done no more than what he is bound to by indenture, which is to follow his trade, and that's to trim folks.   

The 36. jest.  
A Country Gentleman, coming down Westward by water to London, upon the day when my Lord majors Galley ●●ist was in all her holiday attire, and seeing such triumphing on the Themes, but not knowing the cause, demanded of his Watermen, why there was such drumming, and piping, and trumpeting, and wherefore all those Barges (like so many Water-pageants) were carried up and downs so gay with Flags, and Streamers? It was told him, the Lord Mayor went that day to be sworn, to Westminister. What need your Lord Mayor (quoth he) go so far to be sworn: I have heard ther● is as good swearing in London, as in any place in England: but go all these (in black gowns) to be sworn there too? No (Sir) said his Waterman, these swear fast enough in the city.   

The 37. jest.  
A Company of Gallants having supped in a Tavern, and being (as the fashion is) extremely over-reckend in their bill of Items, yet paying all, departed in as extrea me a chafe; swearing, never to hold up their hands again, at that unmerciful bar: One of the rest▪ as he went along, demanded in mockery, what was to pay: Nothing, said one of the pewter-potclinkers: All is paid sir; i'll take my oath upon a book: All is paid answered the other, for we paid you well, and you have paid us sound.   

The 38. jest.  
A Scrinener meeting an Attorney in Fleetstreet, (after some talk had passed between them) asked him how they should do 〈◊〉, so much of the 〈◊〉 was cut off: truth says the Attorney, for my part 〈◊〉 shuffle for one: Michaelmas term you know is like a great household loa●e, you may cut out a good many shi●es, and yet feeds upon it well too, I care not, so I may come but to have a cut, at the last cantle. But how (quoth the Scrinener) if it be cut all clean away: Say it be (replied the Lawyer,) it's but like a Barber's cutting off a man's hair, within a little time after it will grow again, and he 〈◊〉 to 〈◊〉 again.   

The 39 jest.  
WHen the Horse 〈◊〉 on the top of Paul's, a Servingman came sweeting to his Master, that was walking in the 〈◊〉 I'll▪ and told him the wonder he had seen, and what multitudes of people were in the streets staring to behold it, the fellow most vehemently entreating his Master, to go and make one. Away thou fools (said he) what need I go so far to see a Horse on the top, when I can look upon so many Asses at the bottom: O yes Sir, replied the Servingman▪ you may see Asses here every day, but peradventure you shall never see a Horse there again though there were a thousand beasts in the citti●.   

The 40. jest.  
A Clerk of the Guyide Hall, being requested by his Client (at the end of a Trial) to draw him out a bill of charges: Yes said the Clerk, I will draw it out presently, and did so, the Client running it over, knew to himself, that he was at more cost with him, than was needful, yet said nothing, because he was to use his help in other matters, but paid it all: and then requested my young Lawyer, to go drink a cup of Muscadine with him at the Tavern, which he did: the Client at the end of the shot, paying all too. Nay them (quoth the Clerk) By the Lord, I have done you wrong, to put you to so much charges. In good troth answered the Client, so I thought before, though I said nothing, but since you swear it, now I dare verily believe it.   

The 41. jest.  
TWO Citizens overtaking one another, as they came from Westminister, (the one of them being exceeding pensive,) it was asked by the other, why he went so heavily: O quoth he, I have reason to go heavily, for I had an Action tried to day at Westminister, of 200. ●. and it is gone against me. Who was your Counsel said the other: Mary such a one, replied the second. What strange qualities, (quoth the first) have these men of law, the self same man that makes you so heavy, has made me exceeding light.   

The 42. jest.  
A Prisoner that stood upon his coming forth▪ was put backs till he had paid, such fees as the Keepers demanded of him, which he thought were unreasonable, and against both l●we and conscience, whereupon he railed at them, called them bloodhounds, bloodsuckers, helhounds, and such other ungodly names: but one standing by, counselled him to hold his tongue, and not to spit his venom against men that are in place, for said he, Keepers of Prisons are as good men as the best, where they take.   

The 43. jest.  
A Young wanton wench that had married an old man, being a Forester, whom she had so transford, that coming amongst the heard of Dear: he went for a Stag, fell suddenly sick, for the love of a Gallant, that had a good while together gone a hunting with her, but upon some dislike of his game, gave it over: the kind old fellow her husband, that suspected nothing, brought her a Doctor, but the cause of her disease being love, she proud him a D●nce; he could neither by her water, nor by feeling her pulse, find what sickness bred within her: whereupon the old Ranger her husband, persuaded her, to show all how it came first upon her, for said he, we must hide nothing from our Physician. Why then (quoth she) good husband show your forehead to him, which me thinks is all broken out: Alas said he, that's only the weakness of thy sight. Nay husband, (said the sick lover) if your brows grieve not you, they shall never hurt me.   

The 44. jest.  
A Country H●bbin●ll, h●●ing seen she mad-folks in Bedlam, fell so in ●oue with their tricks, that he swore he could ●nd in his heart, to live in the Sommer-time amongst them, and demanded (of him that carried him thither to see them) how he might soon be made to run mad, if one had such a mind●, easily said the other, for do but marry with a whore, or else have to do with players, and thou shalt quickly run mad.   

The 45. jest.  
A Wench having a good face, a good body, and good clothes on, but of bad conditions, sitting one day in the twopenny room of a playhouse, & number of young Gentlemen about her, against all whom she maintained talk. One that sat over the stage said to his friend: do you not think that yonder flesh will stink anon, having so many flies blowing upon it. Oh (quoth his friend) I think it stinks already, for I never saw so many crows together, but there was some carrion not far off.   

The 46. jest.  
Look (said one) is it not strange? yonder is a fellow that the last day went for a Lieutenant, and now he is a Pander: Alas said one that stood next him, Soldiers you know if they cannot get it by fair means, they will have it out of the flesh.   

The 47. jest.  
A Couple of Gentlemen talking of a common Punk, one of them said she was a Recusant: Nay before God, quoth the other, that's a lie, she'll take any thing.   

The 48. jest.  
A University man, called one of the Constables of London, Onion, at which the Constable, (as if he had been sliced into pieces) kept a coil, and wondered, why he should call him an Onion, that was rather one of the best dishes, that stood upon the table of justice; Mary said the Scholar, I tell thee again thou art an Onion, because thou hast a great head, but no wit in it.   

The 49. jest.  
TWo Tradesmen falling out, and upbraiding one another with housekeeping, & miserable feeding of their servants: Says the one, I spend more mustard and vinegar, in a year in my house, than thou dost beef in thine. Nay quoth the other I believe thee, for I always took thee for a very saucy knave.   

The 50. jest.  
A Notable scolding Quean, ralling hand to hand, with three men that were her neighbours, and beating them all three at it, because it was her own weapon; her husband standing by ● taking part with neither. At last she began to revile him, and told those that fl●ckt about her, how her husband thought to have every rascal a top on her: And reason good, quoth one that ●ood by, what 〈◊〉 jades for, but to be made hackneys?   

The 51. jest.  
A Gentleman made all the friends he could, to the Captain of the french Kings guard, that he might be one of them, but the Captain told him, he was so hardly priest upon by sundry Noble men for their Servants, and fellows, that he could not by any means do him the pleasure: Oh sir (quoth the gentleman) sure you mistake▪ you are not (as I am told) so priest upon by so many Noble men, but rather with so many Nobles.   

The 52. jest.  
A Water-bearer complained before a justice, of his wife's misusing, and over-maistring him: 'tis strange quoth the justice, that you two should jar, for I am told, that you (Sirrah) are never seen to go into an Alehouse, but your wife is seen there too; you are never drunk, but she is drunk too: you never quarrel with your neighbours, but she quarrels too; I wonder that having qualities so alike, you should no better agree. So do I and it please your Worship (said the Water-bearer) for my own part, I could agree with her, if she were worse, so she would be but better; I pray therefore let me have her bound, either to her good behaviour, or else to the peace. Seek but out a Scriveuer (quoth the justice) that can make such a ●ond, and thou shalt have my furtherance.   

The 53. jest.  
A Farmer of the country going to Law, for certain Acres, about which he would never have ve●tured his money but that his Council whetted him on, by telling him the matter was clear on his side, and that all the Law in England could not take it from him; came jocundly up to the Term and yet after much heaving & shoving was overthrown Horse and foot, so that he had scarce money le●t to carry him home, whereupon meeting an acquaintance of his, and wondering (as he said) that men of learning should so much overshoot themselves, in that wherein they are so perfect: oh (replied the other) the Sun shows men their shadows, but not their faces.   

The 54● jest.  
AN Apothecary that had a gallant creature to his wi●e, was wondered at, that she (especially) and himself could be so rich in apparel, and so expensive in diet, having no customers resorting to their shop for any physical stuff, but only a few Gentlemen that came to take pipes of the divine smoke: whereupon some of his neighbours giving up their credit, that this gear could not last long, oh (said one of them) you are all deceived in that man, it is not possible he should sink, he is so well held up by the head.   

The 55● jest.  
A Young bride (that had married a stale ou●d bachelor) sat at the wedding dinner with a very sad and discontented look, to think what a ba● market she had been at● but an Ancient merry gentlewoman ●●tting next to her, cheered her up, in her ear thus, daughter quoth the never repent the bargain thou ha●● this day made, for an ou●d horse will hold out a ●●long journey, as well as a nag of four year old: It may be so, (quoth the bride,) but as little skill as I have in riding. I doubt whether he can hold out in some high waye● that I could name.   

The 56● jest.  
AN impudent fellow meeting a civil gentlewoman upon a narrow causey, that she could not pass him without striving (in courtesy) to give wayrudely broke out into this question Gentlewoman are not you a whore? She being nothing danced at his blunt behaviour, but having more wit about her than he had civility, answered him thus, trust me Sir I am none now, nor ever was I any but once, and that was when your father being no better than a Chimny-sweeper, lay with me all night, whilst she whom you now call mother kept the door.   

The 57 jest.  
A Company of thieves, broke 〈◊〉 night into a courtrie schoolmasters house, but he hearing them, never stirred out of his bed for the matter, but cried out aloud you mistake your mark my masters, go to the next house, that's a rich Farmers, I wonder you will lose time to seek any thing here by night, when I myself can find nothing by day.   

The 58. jest.  
THree waiting gentlewomen sitting up late one evening began to shrive one another, and to know what manner of Lovers each other had: says the first I love o●e of our Servingmen, and I (quoth the second) love the Tutor, nay (says the third) than I like my choice best, for I love my ladies Gentleman Usher: out upon him, cried one of the other, I had rather ten other men should lie with me night by night, than one gentleman usher.   

The 59● jest.  
TWo friends having drunk much Tobacco as they safe together in a chamber, (one of which was in love with one of the ●●p●ny 〈◊〉 sinnets that lay in the spital in shoreditch, and they both having spit much upon the ground, one of them suddenly started up, and with the end of a wand stood rakeing up and down in the spittle that lay before them, the other wondering at it, asked what he meant by doing so? mary quot● his friend, I am trying if I can find what villainy thy 〈◊〉 punc● (whom thou dotest upon) is committing in the Spittl●●.   

The 60. jest.  
A Pipe of kindled Tobacco being offered to 〈◊〉 that was not●● to be a greedy taker of it, was by him refused, and being demanded, why he that loved it so well, should now leave it? he answered, for three bad properties that he found in it, for sa●●● he, Tobacco makes any man a thee●e (and upon that hangs danger) a good fellow, (and that requires cost,) & a niggard (the name of which is hateful:) It makes him a thief for he will steal it from his father, a good fellow, for he will give the smoke to a beggar: a niggard, for he will not part with his ●or to an Emperor.  
〈…〉    

The discoveries made by Cock Wat, the walking spirit of Newgate.  
COck Watt, as I am privately known, & commonly called by knaves, thieves and coney-catchers but more properly named C●ck W●r● who gives warning to Court, city and country.  
Have amongst you then, for the forefront of my name Cock, know I am so titled & discovered by it, in the place where I keep my twinkling 〈◊〉, as distinctly as your likely horse by his white star in the forehead, your wanton wench, by her black patch worn on the side of her brow your house of iniquitis, by little cakes and less cans, and your perfect tuddlecap by his red nose And not unproperly neither, 〈◊〉 called Cock, for about that time when the last 〈◊〉 takes his farewell of the ensuing day and that early bird, the morning's herald gives his wakeful summons to the dark clouds (under whose canopy, thieves, baud●s, and strumpets do their hateful activities) to disport themselves from the desired day by whose cheerfulness, the honest labourer rejoicingl, eats his bread got by the sweat of his brows, do I like a cand●e at his half going out, in that stillness of ho●res, making my sovereignty amongst the monstrous thée●es and murderers, and my palace a prison's creeping up the wall, from side to side, and roof to roof, appear.  
So much for the character of my name Cock, now for my name, and nature of my name Watt, or Wary, thus: know that I am never seen to make my visitation and nigh●● progress, to the terrifying of some, and comfort of other: that either in my journey see me● or the next morning hear of me: but about thr●● days before the sessions or 〈◊〉 when coming into the prison. I find for several offences, plenty of offenders, some lying on hard 〈◊〉- beds, but the most 〈◊〉 on harder boards▪ some with course 〈◊〉 and thin coverings, the rest in 〈◊〉 of a 〈◊〉 barley, or other coverture, heavy Irons, some 〈◊〉 lawyers, some for walking on the pad, some hor●est●a●●rs, ●ome mi●s, some foy●●●, some stalls, some Jugglers, some 〈◊〉, some morts some li●●s, some decoys, all cunning 〈◊〉 and cozening queans, and of all these, wh●● they are, and their several course of 〈◊〉, in their due places.  
Where bone●● reader thou shalt perceive, how easily thou 〈◊〉 be deceived, bow the goods 〈◊〉, be ready to accuse, nay even to Indite thy guiltless servants, be suspicious of thy Children, and only by the di●elish sleights of many, who 〈◊〉 with a fairer gloss of bravery, honest show of behaviour, or private 〈◊〉: feed like drones upon thy labours, and 〈◊〉 like vipers in the common wealth.  
But for my power and benefit of arrival in your prison; know I most commonly appear on the side of a wall, and from thence carry myself about in as swift a motion, as water glides from a spring, from bed to bed, and b●●rde to board, only at the head of every prisoner, I make a several stay: And as it 〈◊〉 given me by divine power▪ I draw from each particular▪ the certain continuance of his life to succeed, and whether at the following sessions or Assizes, they shall be condemned to suffer their deserved and shameful death or not.  
At first I make my seat upon the ●eade, where resting a whi●e, I suddenly start from thence up to the roof, and down again upon the face, in as quick motion as lightning, when as if I had then received, by certain Intelligence, whether the party I have ●oothed on, shall be executed or not, I thus to the judgement of any who are then waking make it evident.  
For upon my returns, the prisoner I have made trial of, shall shortly 〈◊〉, about his head and face, like a lamp near 〈…〉 I make a 〈◊〉 twinkling and go out. But it hath pleased GOD, his present Imprisonment hath been laid upon him, as a 〈◊〉 and merciful correction, for his future amendment and to instruct him, that as this certain to unhonest pleasure, is begot a compa●●on repentance, so to unlawful actions, doth become this succ●ssion, a shameful death on 〈◊〉 or the rest, that for that time are preserved, my light saileth not, but 〈◊〉 and descends from one to another: (whom I find lying, as they have lived, like sw●e) but decayeth not one any but such only whom shortly the Law shall condemn, and the speedy execution thereof, cut off.  
While thus then, I continue my visitation, know that to th●●● to whom for that moment I am visible, the horror of thunder, mixed with the flashes of affrighting lightning, dreadful to Beasts, terrible to Man, putting him in mind, that in such a minute, and by such m●●●ngers, the world shall determine and every sinner shall be called to a strict account, wherein the best shall be found short of their reckoning, as I say, the remembrance of that hour, begets not a more earthquake in the bosoms of the wretched, then doth my light (being no more in show, than a star by us) increase in my beholder: for in what rank of the seven deadly ●inn●s so ever his conscience doth witness against him, that his prisoned life hath marched in, seeing my light, for the same footsteps, extinct upon another, he expects the like due rewards is descend upon himself.  
And in this terror of his, the plagues here is every several sin, are as visible in the eyes of his soul, ●s they were then thrusted in Hell, for the corruption of his body.  
If he have been as proud as a Player that feeds on the fruit of divine poetry, (as swine one 〈◊〉) that 〈◊〉 from the noble O●● of their ●●ndes, and in the least Win●er of prosperity, will not stick to make their ●●ye, in that bo●ome which of late 〈◊〉 them, in an hour 〈…〉 like this, they shall with trembling remember (what in the height of their vainglory they presumptuously forgot) that though they are in their fulst of rancour, fatted up like a Boar in his trunk that eats up all is brought unto him, yet are they still but swine's flesh, that the damnedest show, will not eat a bit one, nay the Devils themselves thought them the fittest r●●●es, under which to keep their Court in, semper excipimus, and that a minuit will come perhaps in this moment, when they shall be like Tantalus in hell, to gape after their old fodder, but get none of it or in such an hour as this, when either I or death shall visit them they shall evidently perceive it was their pride which is the perverter of all virtue, taught them to think, themselves wise, but proved fools, instructed them to despise learning, scorn poverty, mew at desert, yea and that merit, which from stark Asses, which they naturally were, made their fit momusses worthy to be laughed at, yet remembers them withal in their best prosperity, they are but like the flower sparagus, that grows out of every man's dung, and contemned of every man.  
If he have been as envious as a serpent, enemy to all mankind, and hath given as many pricks, to the destruction of a man's life, & reputation, as a tailor, stitches in his clothes; for this long tongue and toothed malevole, (that looks as desperately on the prosperity of any, as your usurer on a young heir, greedy to devour him) hath not the feathers of his birdboults glued on only with backbitings, calumnies, and slanderous reproaches which only contummate the credit, but he hath as many shapes beside, as Proteus, and like signor don spaniardo, who in fight, aimeth all at the heart, or your northern fencer, in playing his prize, who sticks your mark fairer upon his own breast yet sends his stoccado cleanly into your bosom, so will he upon any occasion of revengement shift himself into several suits of Apparel, into a man's dish, his drink his nosegay, his any thing he has an excellent wardrobe too, change of garments, and not beholding either to his mercer, merchant or tailors Book (as I hope most of our gallants are) for a penny. O envy thou forerunner of murder (as a great man's sumpter-horse who makes show before that his Masters coming after) ●●sit thy 〈◊〉, wash thine e●es that looks flaming like the ceaseless fire of the Glashouse, do not use to grate thy jaws, nor have the continual heart-burning at other men's happiness, but by the misery which these feel, by beholding of me repent thy life, and reform thy condition, for know it seems to them in the instant, they are tórne by Devils in the shapes of dogs, in that bl●●● & read kingdom, for being so dogged to mankind, twixt whom and them there was a christian affinity here upon earth.  
If he have been as letherous as a mountain goat, and to keep his effeminacy in repair, and make his desires perpetual, hath been at cost to maintain his monthly baths, somentations, electuaries, and to cherish his loins in high 〈◊〉, hath had his Cullises of dissolved pearl, and bruise amber, 〈◊〉, cocksparrows, brains of larks, lambst●●● all the earth's chiefest viands, to replenish his pleasures, and p●mper up his rankness in this minute, by me his messenger, he is remembered, all is vanity: And begins to reckon with himself, how miserable man is, whose body is preserved from the plenty and chiefest of the land, and by the delicatest store of the sea, yet thus nourished and nuzzled up, not as all other creatures or for man the nobler person, but for worms the very dregs and ●●●all of the earth▪ and as he hath lived licentiously like a grate, so his skin bathed, rubbed, sterket nay perhaps painted for that purpose, shall then like a goat be tanned not to make spruce spanish leather, fit for wanton Lady's shoes, but to make gloves for friends, (like Salamander's skins) able to resist the heat of the low country: for though they are far from the Sun, they always live in the fire, and the best office their hides can be put to ● is to make pumps for Proserpin, gra●●d Pluto King of Lecyfrs' Concubine.  
And as of theses so ensues to all the rest, such as by drunkenness, have made their bodies like dry fats, and their fac●● like a shreive's post of several colours or swearers, whose oaths fly out at their mouths, like smoke out of a chimney, that defiles all the way it passes, or liars, and such commonly are thieves: for lying and stealing, or as inseparable companions, in sinful society, as a thief and a receiver, and indeed all sinners of what condition so ever, are at the sight of me, struck with a sudden and violent remorse, reckon up their lives, and make themselves judges of themselves in these offences, wherein their conscience gives testimony against them, that they are guilty, and in 〈◊〉 present horror, they sleme in mind to ta●e the upright justice and punishment which they know, long before this they have deserved.  
Well, having brought these that behold me into this ague, you walking spirit will 〈◊〉 them in their 〈◊〉, and return to the rest, whom we left 〈◊〉 ●●ely by the way, I could wish that I had that sufferance in the City, that I progress once a month, about the Goal, I then durst undertake, you should soon hear of more charity, and fewer cuckolds, find-lesse houses▪ & more hospitality, not so many promises, but more payment, not so many Foles rich, and so many wise Beggars, nothing should be amiss, all should b●● amended, or your Cock Wach would walk the sinful round like a Sentinel, and the sinners should sweat ●ort.  
But to them whom I left sleeping, not like the rest of good men, wherein they find comfortable recreation after their careful labours, but like the sleeps of villains: For somnia bonoru● meliora quam malorum. So I find these not in sound sleeps, but distressed flumbers, troubled dreams, visited with stairings, groans and passions, and afflicted in mind, as they are persecuted in body, one that went drunk to bed over night, he réeles in his sleep, and swears to begin at the last half pot, where he left in the morning, others that have been ●* soysts, all or the most part of their time, and thrived well in the profession, and now lately drawn into some other action, as they call it, as to break a house, or to lift a cup from a Uintevers red bar, to be 〈◊〉 for it at the black bar in the old bailie, he curses his education, complains of the destinies, maligns his stars, and concludes thus, what a villon was I, to leave my old trade, meaning picking of pockets, to usurp and ●eale into anotherman's mystery, 
〈…〉  namely house-breaking, or what other ways; I heretofore have lived well by mine own, and that which I was brought up in, drawn forty or fifty pound for me and my punk, in one term, out of a rum coves ●ung, (so called in their canting use of speech) (and as much as to say in ours, a rich chuffs purse) and now after in my many escapes, common bale, the help to many a venturous thée●e, a plague of all Ill lucks, I must ride Crowee as much as to say, behanged for a trifle, & in the bitterness of his passion, breaks out thus, may all they take another man's trade upon them, never speed better.  
Here you must understand every man keeps his own trade, among thieves as orderly, as they of the twelve companies, as he that is a vintner, is a vintner and no more, so he that is a pickpocket, is a pickpocket and no more: and so of the rest, yet in the end, closes up his elegy, being sung 〈◊〉 his dream, with this resolution, well I have seen the worst, 'tis but half a● hours hanging, 'twill save me half a years drinking, two turns, the knot under the ear, and a wry mouth will do it▪ let me sweet heart, (speaking by his mort) have a white sh●●te tied about me, and my black wrought Cap on my head, my nosegay in my hand, 'tis but the way, which many a good fellow has gone before, and welcome death, when she perhaps, then present with him, as if their souls did ●●mpathise in one, answers dialogue wise to him, making up her protestations with uthes enough, no doubt of it, his will see will s●● performed, nay for his sake, she will never love none of his 〈◊〉 more never come up newgate stairs, nay for ever will be a stranger to the I'll of man, in remembrance of him.  
Well, suppose the Sessions past, our dreamer awake, and carried in a cart to have a corner of Doctor Stories cap, when she once s●ing him gone, makes no doubt but he has borne a noose with him, will hold him fast enough from coming back, & strait she forgets her promises, never to have more friends, nay ten to one, never takes care to see him buried, that hath brought himself to the gallows for her, but rather studies, where and how, she may get money to be drunk with a new love, and in fresh filled cups, make up a new combination between them, thus like water men, that shift their fares, from one landing place to wait for another, so do these morts every sessions shift their suitors, they dispatch o●e at Newgate stars, & a Noble to a groat, they take up another betwixt that and Tyburn.  
Yet shall it not be Impertinent, that I Cock Watt, your new discoverer, make evident, what use these kind of people draw from these she creatures, 
〈…〉.  both abroad and in prison, first know, that your thée●es traveling mort, is partly a setter of robberies, partly a thief her 〈◊〉, but always a receiver of whatsoever is ●●lne and brought unto her: for which felonies, if him whom she calls her husband's, chance to be apprehended, she tross in his business, labours his adversary to be good to him, & suffer him to be bailed ●ut, you shall want no tears, no knéelings, no intercessions, no persuasions, that it is the first fact that ever the poor man her bedfellow fell into, and will you s●ke his blood, that he was never in prison before, and will you be his ●●doing, when if you but search the record at Newgate, you sh●ll 〈◊〉 him to have paid his garnish twenty times at least, but if it prove that at her Importunity you are moved, and in pity of her, spare her mates life.  
Take this from me, it shall happen to you, as to an honest juror of this City not long since, who seeing a comely proper young man stand indicted for a purse, and by his verdict given against him, ●as to be hanged, in pity of his present youth, and hope of better grace to come, being at that time foreman of the jury, so laboured with his a●●●tants, that for that fact he was acquitted, who in recompense presently upon his discharge, paying his fees, came to the place where this juror was, and picked his pocket, than i● poor Cock may not prevail wt●ou t● spare none of them, learn this of Horras. Quo semel est Imbuta re●ens servabit odorem Testa d●●●  
A 〈◊〉 vessel will never be made sweet, and our english proverb is as true as old, save a thief from the gallows, & he'll hang you if he can, and though these parties themselves will in person no more steal from you, yet imboul●●cd by your pity they will be instruments, to entice others to work you hurt, otherwise if she finds you not moved at her Crocodiles tears, but according as justice in the case has provided will prosecute against him, then falls she to railing against you, abuses your 〈◊〉 ●annes your children curs●s your proceedings, and if she have a child herself, brings it and says at your door she will leave it, for you or the parish to bring up, if by your means her husband's perisheth, thinking thus to overcome you with impudence, if she could not do by persuasion, they that have had any trading know this to be true, then poor Cock leau● & every man to his ow●e discretion, and will now tell how these she b●asts behave themselves abroad.  
In the day time two of them never less, often more, w●lke up and down streets together with their handbaskets in their hands, so neat and decent in attire, that suspicion itself cannot cease on them for other, than people of honest conversation when vigilantly as thy pass along, they cast their eyes about, to observe where, they can find a shop furnished, but with one to give attendance on customers, be it ma●●●●●r, mistress, or man, so but one they respect not, which taken note of, into that shop of what trade soever they will enter, for these will play small game before they will sit out, mary their chiefs venture is either with Mercers, Gouldsmiths, Linen drayers, ha●●da●hers and such like (now a simple man would think these should be credible people that thus love to deal with the best●) at first they demand for this, or that sort of wares, as rings, taffeta, cambrics▪ hats, gloves, garters, or what soever the shop keeps 〈◊〉 of, much they desire to see but are contented with none, yet still requesteth you to turn about and reach h●r this thing or th●● thing, all which trouble is to no more purpose, but that 〈◊〉 your face is away from them, they may ●●ke advantage to 〈◊〉 somewhat away from you, which at that instanc● she that is ●ext you fails not 〈◊〉 ●ffect, and closely conveys it to her that stands of fit purpose a pretty way off, thus having the pray they fish for, she modestly dis●ikes your wares, says she is sorry she has troubled you, she will now make bold to see further, and if she cannot speed herself better, she will return to you again, a●d whilst she is using this complement, sh●e withal opens her basket, shakes and begins to gather up her cloth●●, and you seeing no occasion of mistrust, the one, laying all means to free suspicion opens to you, and the other standing aloof and not coming near your wares, kindly bids them welcome & so part, you to the making up of your wares again (and ten to one for that instant miss nothing) and they to make away that purchase, and by the like to provide for more.  
Thus is many an honest Citizen robbed, ten, nay perhaps, twenty times, by the vildness of this condition, and of long time mistrust nothing, but coming to cast up his shop, finds his goods gone, and no account to be made of them, he suspects his wife, distrusts his children, accuses his servants, when these make pray of your endeavours, and consume your substance in as vild or vilder manner than they get it.  
Another instruction learn, to avoid these dangers by, at the coming in of two in this fashion, into your shop, though by your vigilance both in laying out & making up of your wares, you are certain there is nothing lost, yet of her that stands aloof have this foresight, that nothing lie within her reach, for while she perceives your eye to be diligent on her you are serving, her eye is not idle to observe what lies at random abroad, for thothey have been hole ●olts of Holland, pieces of Taffeta, or Sattane probatum est, that many an honest man having had a care of the o●e, have been by the other whom they mistrusted not in the mean time deceived, for sometimes, they will not come in as of one acquaintance, but when she perceives you busied with the other, and calls hard for such wares which she knows you, have, when you as loath to lose a customer, entreat her but to slay a little & you will attend her strait, she ●aies she will that other whom you are seuing there prolongs the time, and she walking about about till she has played her prize, in fit opportunity takes h●● leave and says she will come again when you are 〈◊〉 more leisure, and so at one time gives you the list and the slip, strait retires home to her Copesmates, who never go● abroad unless sometimes to be drunk but live like ●wl●s, wh● in the day are wondered at and seldom seen but by night, when your goods are divided, and you the honour for your neglect jested at.  
But if, as it is seldom they miss of their purpose, yet come they not home, without means to set some other pr●ie●● a foot, as by noting your doors sellors, windows, casements, whether your servants lie in your shop, and how they find all things easily for entrance, or defensiue● against a burglary, the next night, when, with two or three men and a boy, the purposed act, as shall be after revealed in what manner is undertook.  
These that thus steal, for there be of them, both men and women, are among themselves called running lifts, of which, there are that steal in another manner, and thus it is. If they perceiu● a Nobleman or gentleman's door open, they will strait without ask press in, and so far up, even to the fairest lodgings where if by chance they are met by any, and resisted with this question, who would you speak withal, they have either of these two answers, for their reply, Pray you is not this such a Gentleman's house, who dwelleth within a ●●re or two of, or is not such a gentleman within, whose lodging they know it is, & they themselves have watched his going out, but if as it often happeneth, they be intercepted by none, what plate, apparel any thing of worth happens in their way▪ it is 〈◊〉 to their net: for in things that are trifles, these will not venture, as I will now tell you of a trick that happened to a gentleman of worth, near Holborn, by one of this profession, and the she thief yet living, the more is the pity.  
This gentlewoman's maid being up early in the morning it was her chance to come out at the street door, 
of li●●●  to go into the cellar to fetch coals or some other necessaries, she had presently to use, with this, she lift perceiving, slept in & in an instant up toward the chambers (having provided at for the purpose, on her feet, a pair of cloth 〈◊〉 with pump soles, so far was she climbed still she was at the chamber door where the gentleman & his wife lay, as she suspected a sleep, for it was in the morning early, the maid● by this time was come out of the cellar, & going forward with her business in the Citchen misdoubted nothing: while she list●●ng at the chamber door if she could hear all quiet, in the end went in, but it was the gentleman's chance at this time to be awake, and perceiving between two curtains the glance of a woman to pass by, closed his eyes of purpose & lay breathing as if he had slept sound to note the event, when she thinking all safe opened a press door that stood in the room, & in which was the whole increase of the gentleman's plate, and began to ●ather it out as charily, and with as much regard for bruising as it had been her own, first she filled this pocket, then y●, t●entother, took up this upper cote than a second, than a third, even to her very smoke, which the gentleman perceiving he thought like Banks his horse, or the Baboons, or captain Pold w●th his motion, she would have shown him some strange & monstrous ●ight for his silver & guilt before she had left him, at last having filled some eight or ten deep pockets, too many for an honest body to bear, made the gentleman think she had made them a purpose to carry his plate in, down went all her co●es as the several covers of them, and having now left no more in the cupboard ● but one fair basin and ewer out came that too, & being as charitably minded towards that as the rest, because it should not lie abroad and take cold, she g●ue it houseroom in her apron, which he that ought it percie●ing, said smilingly to himself, I see now that thieves have no conscience, well she began to truss up herself, hoping for a boon voyage, & like a thief as she came up, to steal out of the chamber, mary better ballast by three or four hundred pound then at her coming to that road, when the gentleman stepping out of his bed● caught her by the arm, and cried half share in faith, for in this comedy I have played a part and deserved it well, thanks be to the Devil, she had scarce so much yet as to blush at it, but in brief, he called for his neighbours, upon whose coming, his goods being sound about her, she was carried before a justice, and from thence to prison, but whether of the gentleman's mercy, or what composition, I know not, (but money can do much) in three or four days, she outrun the keepers, and was quit of her trouble, which makes poor Cock Watt to complain, that such ●●ld thieves should have better luck than honester men, and for that I know, let them have never somuch mercy showed them, they are still like dogs, Redire ad vomitum, what though one Broker, who had his beginning from an inch of this profession, is now become an honest man, because he is rich, and a fréeholder, he yet must be no precedent for the rest, for might I have been her judge, she should have had her due, and ●anst Derriks ●ance in a hempen halter. I myself have lived in the same state, when I was a creature on earth, wherein they remain, and I know, their custom so wild, and life so abhorred, that I had rather choose with those, whom Circe's transformed, to live in the nature of bruit beasts, then to reassume my ancient habit, and live like them.  
Another sort of these she morts, 
of 〈◊〉  or monsters. I must Anatomise unto you, who though their nature of stealing be alike, their manner of attempting is different, yet their purpose one, & they are led Glimerers. Your Glimerer, she's up in the morning between 5 or 6 of the clock, dressed in her night attire her bodies and coats scarce laced together, her apron defusedly put on, & with a black brand in her hand, of the colour of her own soul, which she carries under her apron, as if to kindle that, were her purposed business, about street she goes, taking the like opportunity with the former, to go into any house where she finds the door open nay presumes further: If it be in the darkest winter mornings, to knock for admittance, if she but perceive a light● when the maid or man servant, but most commonly the maid, coming to know her errand, she desires to have leave to kindle her stick, which usual curtes●e being granted, in she goes into the kitchens and while her stick lies in the fire, as if she were a servant: newly come to some Gentleman or Citizen thereabouts (whom she 〈◊〉 perfect to nominate) she begins with that gossip's chat, which is familiar and in use amongst ●atling housewives, which is to discover the humour, and manners of their masters & mistresses, their form of government in their house, how they agree, or disagree, one with another, & in what order they must rub their rooms, wash, dress meat, reckoning up all the form of her housewifry, to keep her mistress 〈◊〉 quiet, (when as she seldom meets it otherwise) finding the other as ready to inquire and listen after novelties, as she to offer, she begins to commend her cleanliness, and de●ence in keeping that house in so good order, praises the pillars of the building, the necessary contriving of it, and offers herself to walk further into the next parlour, to have more caus● to speak more in her commendation, when this mistrustless soul, proud to hear herself praised, & suspectless that she com●● for any other end but to kindle her stick, keeps waitfull eye over her, but gives way to her presumption, which leave given she has dispatched that she came for in a twinkling, and never comes back empty handed, takes up her stick, gives some kind farewell at parting, as I hope we shall meet at the Backehouse, or Market & be merry, or if you receive on Palm sunday next, I would be glad to have your company, & so with her new purchase departs, the maid she follows her business, and not long after, riseth her master and mistress, when shortly whatsoever the vulture had before made gripe of, is missed, the maid accused for it, and the master and mistress angering against her, they saw themselves their goods but late last night when they went to bed, and of her they must know what is become of them, the accused wretch she weeps, protests she knows not, & vows to her knowledge, nay she is certain there came none in but such a gentlewoman's maid, rehearsing her name, whose servant she had named herself to be to kindle a brand, then whiles the master frets and is suspicious that his maid is a thee●e, the servant is a jealous that the master or mistress have been thieves to themselves, & conveyed away their goods, with intent to defraud her of her wages, in the end the gentlewoman's house before named is inquired alter, and the servant examined, and not found to have been in the others house, as the accused● had inferred, the suspicion grows more strong: for the master knows his goods to be lost, finds his servant whom he suspects to fail in her answer, & doubting no such fraudulent practice, as these drones have invented, imprisons his maid, ●ay sometimes as in case of a felon, proceeds in ordinary trial against her, that were not our grave bench of Senators, Preleous, & Patrons of this common wealth, careful to distinguish betwixt party and party, the Lamb might oftentimes perish for the wolves ravenings. So this I hope then shall be sufficient for masters to give admonishment to their servants to be wary over them that come to kindle sparks.  
By your leave yet, and let your new discoveror wade a little further, and give warning to Merchant's wives and women of the best sort, to learn how to prevent this fresh practice invented to deceive them.  
There is a new company arising, though not yet half so many in manner, as the fellowship of the Porters, & thus call themselves Reachers, they walk together Male and Female, and keep house together like man and wife, they will have you a house to dwell at about Endfield, Brainford, or any place within 6. 7. or 8. miles of London, but withal keep a private lodging for themselves to retire unto, at one Broker's house or another in the suburbs, upon the market days these two come to town▪ she attired like a comely country woman, in cleanly white linn● with a muster on her face, and in russet clothes outward signs of the country's honest simplicity, & in her maund or basket which she bears on her arm, leapt in a pure white cloth, some fine tidy pig, fat goose, young kid, orh aunch of venison, indeed any provision but of the daintiest, which either she can buy for her money, or more probably her mate may steal from any, in this neat manner leapt up, the ware itself of the delicatest, able to entice any eye to have a desire to buy of her, comes she to make her markets, when lingering in the town, at on place of receist or other, as they want no shelter t●●l toward the breaking up of the market, which is much about the hour when exchange time is held for the m●ting of our merchants, when thus conjecturing, as very profitable it is, that at that time our worthiest citizens are from home, they go into Milk-street, Bread-street, Lime-street, S. mary Axe, or the most priviest places where they kept their residence to make their ●enture, when she knocks at the door, and demands of the servant that comes whether her worshipful good mistress be within, and whether it will be her pleasure, to buy of her, her goose, pig, kid, or whatsoever, when showing it to the servant, (and she can do no other but commend it,) she prays her to express the purely of it to her mistress, that she may bargain for it: For in truth sister, quoth she, we poor country folks, dare not proffer any thing so dainty as this to the open view of the market, lest any one of spite, inform either the King, or my Lord Mayor's officers thereof, and so our goods shall be taken from us, we having not half the value returned us for recompense.  
With this reasonable and honest seeming prevention, the maid knowing her mistress to be of the mind of all our Citizens gallant wives, loath to let any dainties, or good thing go by from their own tastes, which they either have desire unto, or may have for money, though they pay never so dear & their husbands prove bankrupts for it, wills her to come stand within the door, which she indeed requests, left any Catchpole or busy knave should see her, and so her commodity be forfeited, being as it is held unlawful, the sale to be offered not at the market, well the maid goes up to inform her mistress, (and withal takes the dainties along with her. whom she finds in her chamber, perhaps scarce ready, for 'tis grown a fashion amongst them to eat their breakfasts in their beds and not to be ready till half an hour after noon, about which time, their husbands are to return from the Burse and they make it their dinner time, now while the maid is above, flattering her mistress (as flattery is a part of their work, for why they have their wages, with the delicacy of the offer and the cleanliness of the country woman, which brought it to be sold, the Fox beneath 〈…〉 what pray she can espy, to carry home to her den, when 〈◊〉 hole piles of broad clothes, Cearses, or such like commodities, too burdensome for any one to suspect a lone woman could defraud you of she strait beckons over her companion, who stands ready at an inch, & being a quick good sturdey knave, with a hand shifts a way one of them. This is no surmise, there is merchants in this town, by the loss of commodities 20 ● thick can witness it well, by this time the gentlewoman has like that which was brought her, calls for, and commends the country woman's cleanliness, bargains with her at her own rate, and requests she may see her chap-woman on the like occasion, by this also has my porter, though without the badge of the porters Hall, brought his burden to the Broker's house▪ where being once put in: 'tis an abyss too bottomless for any search to reach out again. O your cloth is good ware, it may be cut out into several garments, by this also my merchants come home, where soon taking note of his loss, it makes his wives markets eat not half so savoury as they would have done, yet in the end ●ends for a cup of sack, and comforts himself with this, that I in his behalf, would admonish theword, Foelix quem faciunt aliena pericula cautum.  
And this much for my order of lists, 
Of Foists.  which I hope shall be a caveat sufficient for courtiers, to have a care of their chambers, gentlemen their lodgings, citzens their sho●s, chapmen to have an eye at their fair, and by diligence, defend that hereafter which by these means heretofore hath been their hindrance.  
Now to our Foists, alias, pickpocket, alias cutpurse, he has as many alias as a good gentleman of Wales▪ and indeed is as good a benefactor to the alehouse he consists of an army of three strong▪ namely, foists and snaps, his common wealth to live in, or ground to encamp in, is the ancient great grand father Paul's, & all other little churches his children, besides Parish garden, or rather (places of more benefit) public, & by your leave private play house's Westminster hall is his good soil, the dark entry going to the Six clarcks' office, in chancary lau● his in the term time his dear and special good friend, London bridge his bountiful benefactor, all markets are his purveyors, and carefully provide for him all fairs his diligent factors, that bring him in his provision in abundance, all pockets his exchequer, that are never shut against him, progr●sses his true paymaisters, though they pay seldome-in the Court or cockpit, though the King himself be there, he dare encounter, he pri●e●●●ges no person, nor no place exempt with him, only the Exchange excepted, for says he, where merchants meet, is no meeting for us, If they once take us, we are sure tog● to the old turn, for they are men deal all with great store of money, & very little mercy, the times when his skirmishes are hottest, is the time when they run attilt, is the day the Lord Mayor takes his oath, a new play, or when some great cause is hard at the Star Chamber, now for the person himself that does pick the pocket, and his ministers about him that give furtherance to the action.  
Know at a new play, he is always about the playhouse do●e, watches out of which side you draw your purse, & then guessing whether the lining be worth the venturing, for that serves his turn, if he see you buying of ware at any stall or shop, he observes when you pay for't, on which side you put your purse, and that serves him likewise, If in a throng he thus comes to knowledge whether your pocket be worth the sacking or no, If you be a man that once appear likely to him, he gathers just behind, or on the side of you, and there clapping his hand easily on the place where the bottom of your pockets are, poises them with all, and by the weight getteth how well they are ballast, if he be a Countryman that comes from far to the term, or one that dwells not far from London, or servingman, such either to bestow money, if he walk without a cloak, as for the most part they will, two of them meet him at a corner▪ and only with streaking of their hands on his hose, guess whether this bail be worth the nibbling at, nay perhaps at the first encounter, gave it the draft, but this happens not always the general. Then thus.  
When they have once agreed, which is the Cove they will ●asten on, if it be in a throng or gazing after any object to delight you, the stall he gets before you, and there he rings himself too & fro, while the foist doing as much behind, they both disquiet you, & the one pick your pocket. If they follow you in the street, and once know where the bung and the bit is, as much as to say, your purse and the money, out goes your stall before likewise, when coming at a corner, by which you must pass, being direct before you, stoops of the sudden, as if to take up somewhat, when the other as near behind you, as if he were to pass by in haste, Ius●es you upon to there, and withal draws your purse: Thus rather than fail, will he follow you, and offer upon you twice or thrice, if he miss at the first of his purpose all this while, now you shall see like a scout, he come after a loof, watching, If any stranger were suspicious of you in the iusle, or the man himself, which if he finds and you before have sped then comes he apace after you, and ere the man in that space, has time to miss● his purse, and come after you, he glides by the foist, with these words, kinchen the cove towers, which is as much as, Fellow the man smokes or suspects you, when the foist slips the purse either to him or the stall, & fears not to be searched, nay upon the challenge will so outface the party: and stand upon his credit, being sure there is nothing to be found about him, and the rest gone: that the honest man is rather ready to ask him mercy then accuse him: and now I will tell you a pretty tale of a foist, whose unpudent event happened at Charing Cross, not long since.  
Their lived a foist in this Town, whose gettings by the trade was so good, that he kept his punk, though he called her his wife: in none worse ware, than Taffetas and Velvet of the best, and himself more like a rich knight, than a kua●ish Cutpurse: and indeed the comeliness of his feature and fair behaviour, was so answerable to the bravery of his apparels, that it procured him access into the worthiest places, nay oftentimes made him esteemed as a companion with the best, this fellow seeing a good lusty Servingman, & one hopeful to have some purchase in his pocket would serve his turn, if he could get it, stepped to him, and as he wished gave him a little justle: and withal, twicht 3 ● out of his pocket, the servingman, who but new before had ●ought a penny worth of pares, and ●pon this thrust, ●lapping his r●and to his side and ●ist his purse, stepped after the loy●, and rouded him, what do you here gentleman? (for by his apparel he appeared no less) though I put up your justle, I would be loath ●o have you put up my purse, there is three pound in it, come let me hat it again and no more words out, the pickpurse upon this challenge began to revile the honest fellow, call him rogue, slave, knave, and I know not what, to charge a Gentleman, of my fashion with thy purse, as they were at these words, being spoke against a great fair House, where some great parsonage dwelled, comes me a Coach whirring on the sudden, and there made a stand, to discharge his burden at that lodging, when as the Lady dismounted, the foist being exceeding gallant, took occasion by the hand, stepped to her, caught her by the arm, and lead her in, leaving the f●llow in a muse, whether he were awake, and might ascertain himself, he had lost his money or no.  
The foist by this time had brought in the Lady, where after some curtes●e discharged, stepped to her, kissed her and departed, leaving the gentlewoman in as strange wonder who it should be had done her that present service, and blaming her memory that she should forget in what place was begun their acquaintance. (when indeed her eyes and his did never parley together before) yet guessing by his habit, he could be a man worthy of no less than that kindness, a kiss which she had received, she passed it over.  
By this time the foist was come back to the servingman, & roundly began to tell him, that now he had brought in his honourable Aunt, he should know he had done him wrong, to charge him with his purse, he would fight with him, y●●ellow seeing himself thus outfaste out of himself, and holding it his best to proceed no further, replied, It he had done him wrong, ● ʳ he was sorry for't, but howsoever he was sure three pound he had when 〈◊〉 ius●ed him, and he was as sure 'twas he ius●ed him, and withal answered the foist, I am as sure thou presumptuously didst challenge me for it, and I am sure I will fight with thee.  
The fellow half angered for the loss of his money, entertained this offer: and into Tuttle fields they went where they had not changed past half a dozen thrusts, but the foist had hurt him in the arm, and so they gave over, but ere they parted, the foist puts his hand into his pocket, told out twenty shillings of his money, and speaking to the fellow, said that he should see he would prove himself a Gentleman, since he had but him, there was so much for him, & so sent him to the Chirurgio●s, the servingman praising his resolution and mind of a Gentleman, they so parted, the servingman with thanks, and the foist with this Impudent boast.  
If this were not a trick to shift a fool.  
A more knave learn me, and I'll go to school.  
But now to the manner of the foisting of a pocket, the sharing of the money, and how honest men may avoid them. First know your pocket is drawn up, that he may the easier come by your purse with two fingers, only the forefinger and the middle, and with that fork, he cetches hold not of the lining, nor on the side next your skin, but the other: for if he should faste● on that ne●t your thigh, he were in danger you would feel him sooner than on the other. When having drawn your pocket up, till he can reach your purse, it is then gone with the least twitch nay by this means of drawing, If your money be loose, they will turn you the case clean out, and the bit, into their hands, now for the sharing of this bit, as they call it, your Stall is equal part with your foist, if the foist his none, which is shift some aside, ere they come to sharing, but your snap has his wages at their discretion.  
For the manner to avoid them, though their cunning be great, it is very easy, which is, if ever you take any, to hang them, and let not this composition prevail with you, for that mean of compounding with the adversary, hath been like an usher to ●enstole in this mystery of cutting of purses, emboldened many scholars, and increased their number, and also to be gog●uernd by these instructions,  
If being in a Crowd you perceive a busy knave, or cunning whore, (for we have she foists as well as he) labouring and thrusting about you, how gallant so ever they be in apparel) and the male have always one side of his cloak cast over his shoulder, for that's the perfect badge to know a pickpocket in a throng by, seem either not at all to regard him, till you take him in the trap, or else look once or twice eagerly upon him, then l●●ke away, and then léere at him, keeping your hands down on the ●ide of your pockets, when presently he will perceive himself to be smoked, or at least, in his guilty conscience suspect himself, and so show from you, from whence you may take note of him for one o● the trade, and for that time are rid of a knaves company.  
If going through the street, or standing at some Corner, your purse be attempted with a iustell, upon the touch, have this in remembrance strait to search, if you miss nothing, when, if you find your purse wanting, spare not to apprehend him that iu●led you, and him that stood next before you, when though they will appear to you to have no acquaintance, you shall find them a kin in conversation, when they come to Newgate.  
Now if he have missed his hold, and the snap that stood Sentinel or comes after, perceives you upon the shove together, to your pocket to feel for your money, then hastens he after you with his old lesson, kinchen the cove towers you, which is so ●ufficient a warning he will not angle with you after.  
Among the profession of thieving, this kind is held the basest, as your lawyer, whole course is so sufficiently known I shall need to speak of, is held the worthiest, yet among themselves they reckon if the best, boasting thus of it, we are not troubles in our venture, with luggage, as your millure quasi Breakehouse, and others are, which is dangerous to put away: But we as soon as we have done our work, we have our money. 
〈…〉   
Thus hoping that this instruction will in City and country, fairs, and meetings, to keep honest men's money in their purses, and pickpockets, poor Cock Watt will only discover a word or two of the mill, quasi breakhouse, and so go to bed, you Mill or breakhouse, to whom your broker is your only upholder, and merchant to transport his commodities, whereas all other thieves work in the day, he only sleeps in the day and toils in the night, there is of these as of Foists and Lifts, both men and women, whose Instruments are either little Iron hooks, which are called picklocks, and they that use them termed junglers or a strong Iron bar made sharp at one end, and they which trade with that, are called Mils, withal a boy to creep in at a crushard or small hole, which they make or find.  
The time that they go forth, is about one or two a Clock in the morning, at which hour commonly the watches are discharged. They lightly set forth four in number, of which the Boy is one, when if they have in the day taken note of any casement, without a spear going up in the middle, if there be either signpost, or penthouse about, thither do they vpp●n their hands and shoulders lift up the Boy, who being brought up for the purpose, presently creeps in, than two of them beneath go to stand Sentinel at each end of the street, and the third waits to receive whatsoever the Boy shall throw out.  
If they break a cellar or a shop window, they do the like, but it always follows not, that these burglaries have a Boy: for sometimes they are all men, but then are they associated with an excelling juggler, a fellow that will pick you open a lock, as soon as a man will blow his nose, he has the power of Gunpowder, he will blow them open, but not with half so much noise. This fellow opens the door, if not bolted on the inside, & makes easy entrance, who where ever they find to the fullest burden, they take away, the distribution whereof, this is some part to the punk, and the rest to the Broker.  
Now if this robbery shall extend to forty, fifty, or a hundred pound, If none of it be money, but apparel or commodities she is so embusied away in the sudden, so altered, so transported from one to another, that if the loser take not his thieves, within two or three days, he shall find his goods bought & sold, metamorphosed into so many several shapes, and sold for so little at the first, this little but their lives will be his recompense, A plague of these Brokers, private buyers, privy receivers, says Cock Watt, they have given me c●use in time past to curse them myself, & my heart will not let me be sorry for them. They make me theirs in England, than your owers, and Schullers dus land men upon the Thames, Your jugglers exercise beside, this is picking open the locks as partakers and chess them, but those that keep Inns, & have their riches in one ro●me have a cut of them▪ for your other sort of mills I have set down the Characterie o●t, advise all men whose shops & houses are not together, to let a servant lie there: for they stand dangerous, such as have low windows, as though a story high without a spare, in the midst to all them, & if there be a paint-house under any window, to leave nothing they respect there overnight, lest they say they had it in the morning. And thus wishing the happiness of honest men, and the end of thieves. Cock Watt bid● you. God ●ight.   

The misery of a Prison, and a Prisoner.  
THis Ghost (that haunts no places but houses of Calamity) being weary of beholding so much villainy though not weary in discovering it was about to go to rest, & to walk no more above earth, but to retire to this uncomfortable and gloomy shades (underground whither all such troubled spirits (after the second Cock crowing) hasting to be assembled. But gliding by a dark and doleful lo●ging (for it was about midnight) it suddenly stopped at the sound of a voice which sorrow (who seldom lays her eyes together) sat up heavily playing upon so late, & filling the vast room with nothing but lamentations. Cock Watch darted a sudden glance in at a cranny to observe what it was, and being delighted with the object, stepped back behind certain curtains of Cobweb lawn, which spiders had hung there most richly, and there hid himself, appearing (not by the thousand part of the least fraction) half so big as the glymering of a Sexton's candle, standing over a Country Church yard in a black and silent night, when the twinkling of it is scarce discerned the distance of some mile or two off.  
The thing that complained, was a man: that for age, would have seemed Reverend, but that Care (who sat at the be●s head turning his hairs into whiteness with too ill handling of it, made his countenance appear miserable, and discontentedly was he thrown upon a poor and unhandsome palate: In his face were the Ruins of youth, In his garments, of Time: In both, the Triumphs of poverty, His Arms were seuen times folded together, like a withered garland of willow, worn carelessly by a forsaken Lover: Sometimes did he unwind them, but then did his hands cla●pe each other so hard, that between them they embraced many witnesses, for now his eyes stood (like floating Islands compassed round with waters: his cheeks like Banks to Rivers, eaten hollow by cruel torrents. Had Aduers●ty (with whom he fought long) not given him any one of these scars to be known by, it might easily be judged he was a Wretch, for he was a Prisoner.  
And albeit the rest of that wretched and forlorn household, where he lay, knowing what happiness they were to lose in the world, by want of their liberty, gladly suffered themselves, 
〈…〉  (like these whose limbs are to be cut of by chirurgeons,) to be cast into drepe and Lethaean slumbers, and so to take away all sense of their pain, yet he having his heart (like Corat whilst it is under water) continually, soft by the tears, that inwardly dropped upon it, was more tender over his affliction, and because he had sometimes been a Scholar, though he could read comfort to himself out of his own library, (which was his memory) yet wounds are grievous when they receive them, even to those that can cure them, discord seems most harsh to the Musician, and calamity most Irksome to the gentle Nature, such was his, it should seem, and therefore such was his Condolement.  
Oh most miserable spectacle of Creatures that I am, 
His Complaint  the wide and universal World was made (as a goodly Orchard) for thee to walk in, yet art thou denied to treat upon three times so much ground as must one day cover thee. Thou we●t borne free but art likely to die a Slave, ye and to die in the worse state of Slavery, and whereas that but in a Prison's Better had it been for thee to have been the Son of a common Beggar, for it then thou hadst been smitten by the Law, the hours of thy punishment would quickly have run out: But these are like Shelves of Sande growing in Rivers never to be taken away, so long hast thou worn the fetters of miserable thraldom, that thou canst scarce remember that there is such a thing as libert●e. Thy days have gone over thee like the dreams of a fool, thy nights like the watchings of a mad man, numberless are thy hairs, numberless therefore must needs be thy sorrows: for at every hairs end doth hang a sorrow.  
Oh sacred liberty! with how little devotion do m●n come into thy temples, when they cannot bestow upon thee too much honour? Thy embracements are more delicate than those of a young bride with her Lover, and to be divorced from thee is half to be damned? For what else is a Prison but the very next door to hell: It is a man's grave, wherein he walks alive: It is a Sea wherein he is always shipwrecked, it is a lodging built out of the world, 
The description of a Prison.  it is a wilderness where all that wander up and down grow wild, and all that come into it are devoured, it is an vnsa●●able gulf, a feadomelesse wherlepit, an everlasting scaffold on which men go daily to execution, it is the cave where horror dwells, it is a bed of terror, no, no, it stands not next door to hell, but it is hell itself: for souls lie languishing and cannot die. The keepers of i● are churlish, and so are Devils, the officers of it tormentors, and what are torments? goeth not a man therefore toward hell when he is lead to a Prison? for alack what are the comforts he meets, there his wife and children grieve him, 
〈…〉  when he beholds them, his kinsfolks grow blind and cannot see him, his friends are stricken deaf and cannot hear his moans, they upon whose company he spent his coin and credit, will not come near the sight of that cold Harbour where he lies, whliest others that fed him with wholesome council do now laugh at his folly for refusing that good dye●.  
What music hath he to cheer● up his Spirits in this sadness none but this, he hears wretches (equally miserable ●reaking their heartstrings, every night with groans, ●uery da● with sighs, every hour with cares: the meat heats doth ●ake him pine, his drink is unto him as a poison, if he have money he shall there soon consume it, if he want it, be must be sure to consume himself,  
How cruel therefore is death in striking the rich man amongst his heaps of gold, in drowning the voluptuons man in his dry cups of wine, in damning the Lecher in the fires of his l●st but how much more cruel is he to the poor Prisoner only in sparing him.  
When kne●s ring out (abroad) for joy that souls have made a voyage to heaven, what sorrow is amongst them that were by at the leave taking, what shrieks are heard from the wives, because they are become widows? what sobbings from the children, because they are become Orphans, what complaints from servants, because they are left comfortless, what 〈…〉 flow from friends, because Society is broken: yet even then when the warning pieces of men so newly departed from the shores of life, go● off, the languishing Prisoner lying on his melancholy bed, abruptly shakes off all other cogitations, and as one wrapped with joy for his friends good fortune, suddenly cries out to himself, Oh happy man art thou, that by the hands of death art thus set at liberty; but most unfortunate am I that coveting him day and night, I can no ways get into his favour. A Prison sure is so dreadful a place that death fears 〈…〉 it, the grates are so strong and so narrow, & the locks so full of wards and so many, the rooms so wide, and so unwholesome, the beds so pestered with guests, and yet so old, the diet so costly and yet so sparing, the family so great and yet so unruly, that death would think it more than double death to himself to abide in so strange a lodging, or else men that are compelled to lie there are such forlorn and miserable wretches, that death scorns to be seen in their company, Yes, yes, it is so.  Dulce novi miseris ●ed mors optata re●ug it, 
These Latin bullets, were shot so heavily out of the old man's mouth, (like the songs of fiddlers when they be over-watcht) That sleep hearing him so wronged by his brother (Death) and taking pity on his griefs, laid charms upon the lids of his eyes, and bound them fast up in slumbers. At which our nimble Ignis Fatuus, that all this while stood Sentinel in a dark Corner, vanished out of that place and like a piece of firework running on a line, was, (in the turning of an 〈◊〉,) at another, (whether if you please) let us follow him.   

A Paradox in praise of Sergeants, and of a Prison.  
OUr Newgate-Bird (whose notes you have heard before) spreading his Dragon-like wings, (which with a horrid & a fainting sound, broke open the Air before him) rested himself in his flight, on he tops of many other pollutes houses, and looking down (sometimes through attorneys, and sometimes in at dormer windows that stood gaping wide open to swallow up the air,) he beheld a thousand Sins, that in the shapes of Bats, Skréech-owles, and such other ominous mid nightwalkers, wasted the bawdy night in shameless and godless revilings, but in the daytime, like snails they lie covered, hiding in causes their ugly and deformed heads. Of all which he taking notes, with purpose to sing their lives openly to the world, when he is perfect in their tunes, he spent all the next day in a thievish thicket, not far from the City, to practise the strains by himself, but the Sun going to bed, being his hour to rise, forth flutters he amain, close by the edge of darkness hovering under the E●ues of the suburbs, till he heard watchmen called to their brown bills, & till Vintners were rea●y to adjourn their Sessions, and to arraign no more at their fearful Bars till the next morning: Just at that time (being much about the hour when spirits begin their round) did he enter the city, and passing by a Tavern door, he might behold a tumultuous crew, (like drunken waves) reeling from one side to the other; the whirlwind that razed this tempest, being nothing else then the clapping of one on the shoulders that was watched for when he came out of his cup, you would have thought the alarum had been given, and that the City had been in an uproar, for you might hear the clashing of swords, the hacking of bills, and such a confuses noise, as if all the Devils in hell had fallen together by the ears. Some called for more lights, others to put out, some cried clubs, others to strike him down, those than had the greater part swore, all showed as if they had been mad, yet on they went, holding a kind of orderly proceeding in this disorder.  
Cock-Watch followed them aloof by the noise, till he came to one of the Counpter gates, which presently flew open mor● suddenly, then if they had been blown up with powder, and as suddenly were ●ard up again: At which the thunderbolt broke, that kept before such a rumbling, rash Phaeton, that set a●● on fire, was thrown headlong into a lodging, the fury of the multitude was quenched, and every one went to his pillow. Only the good Daemon, whose nature it was to sit out she very last Sceine, of such Tragi-comedies, followed the chief Actor (that played This) even up into his bedchamber, where he was fast enough locked all night, to rehearse his parts by himself.  
The waking Cock had softly clymbd up to such another Roost, as he sat upon the night before, for the Inn was all one, but the Guests were not alike.  
This was not an old Soldier, that had been beaten to the wars of Calamity, (as the former was) & being wounded in then lay now sick and groaning on his bed for cures: But this was a first man in the school of the World; A gallant that had spent much, and learned little, one whose outside only showed he was a Gentleman, (for within the sumptuous tomb of him, was nothing but Carcase) It was one unto whom Usurers, and Citizens would offer us Golden and silken robes (as once the Heathen did to the Images of their Gods) because they knew he was borne to Acts, and now to make him wise, and to take heed what pasture he breaks into next, have they put him (like a jade into a pound) into a prison.  
Where, (because this was the first time that he ever came to the Tenpenny Ordinary) he went cursing up and down to think himself so base to leave that by Paules-wharfe, to come in to this: he bid the crosses of the plain in all Merters books, wished he had never been brought up like a gentleman, to this writing and reading, damned Scriveners & bond-makers to the deepest pit of hell. Stamped, stared, tore his hair, called for faggots and wine. misused the keepers, and cried to every one of them, do you hear goodman Rogue, yet swore to make them drunk, but they making many lies in mockery to his good worship, counselled him to take his naps, and so were ready to turn the key upon him, and their tails both at one time, but he stroking up a handful of his ha●re in diverse parts of his heace, as if he had some great matter there to fetch out, & thumping the table with his f●st: as if he had been conjuring up a devil, called for pen and ink, and vowed that might not to lie in the streets of captivity.  
The instruments of Learning being set before him, and the room cleared after five or six pair of oaths were spit forth (like wildfire) to think how he was taken like a woodcock (being in the company of the only gallants) and how he was drayde along, and how scurvily he was used in words: he sharply began to rail against Sergeants, because they knew not their Gamoth, neither had any music in them, & yet durst presume to teach him, (that was a Gentleman) one of the chiefest notes in music viz. Counter tenor, he swore he would have the statute of Garbling sued upon them for offering Mace to men that was able to poison them, as for Marshal's men, the black book did never so tickle them as he would. The next herd whose heads like mad Ajax he vowed to cut off, were bailiffs, he called them poor Snakes that lie in every corner at the towns ends, to sting passengers to death, if they slumble but upon them, and compared them to hornets & great humming flies, that are bred out of cowshards, yet held them the basest Goblins that walked up and down the Suburbs, because they were Buttery-bugs, that lay scouting only in bawdy and beggarly 〈◊〉- houses.  
The Linstock that gave fire to these Canon threats of our young Colonel of cockneyes, against three such mighty commanders, was kindled partly out of his fear, and partly out of an intelligence that both city and country were laid for him, and that pur●ies and liberties had mousetraps set to catch him; but looking, well upon the smoky walls, and the singed roof of his lodging and remembering that he was but in one of the Counters, he resolved to put on the cloak of mercy, and to spare the two last for a time, but to draw out the sword and dagger of his justice, and to stab home the first for arresting him, and cooping him up, (like poultry ware,) and they were the Sergeants.  
Against them would he write invectives satires, Lybals, Rhymes, yea causeth such iambics as Archilocus made against Lycambes, or such stuff as Hipponap, the painter of Ephasus: this very ink should be Squ●azed out of the guts of toads: His pens should be cut out of Indian Canes after the heads of them were poisoned, and his paper made of the filthy lin●en rags that had been wrapped about the infected and ulcerous bodies of beggars, that had died in a ditch of the pestilence. But behold, Nocte pluit tota, redeunt spectacula mané. It thundered and lightened all night, yet was it a fair day the very next morning for furious Tamburlaine, who as you heard, was cutting out 3 sorts of banners for his 3 sworn enemy's, he had ●●arce taken a nap over his i●ck pot that stood just under his nose, whilst he leaned on his elbow writing out crabbed faces as he studied for bitter words to begin his execrations. But into his chamber came these; who the night before, as he thought made him to suffer persecution: they gave him the kind good morrow, told him where his cloak and rapier were, protested they were sorry for him or any gentleman whose unruliness enforces them to use them hardly, and that for his arrest they could not prevent it, nor refuse it, because the Creditors were at their elbows, yet would they ride or run, and do any office of friendship to work his delivery, and to show how much they deserved to comfort him, they asked him what he would drink next his heart, but he that not an hour before had nothing but daggers in his mouth, leaps about their necks, calls them mad greeks, tru● Troyans', commands a gallon of sack & sugar to us burnt for the Sergeants, and muscadel, and eggs to bruise for the yeamen, empties his pockets of Tobacco to both, drinks a health to them all, & swears he will over into the Low Countries, and for love or money get a Captain's place, (though he never be a Soldier) only to make them Sergeants of his company: And whereas before their coming into his room, he had a foolish humour to pistol them with paper-bullets shot out of pen & inkhorns, he proteseth (with his eyes lifted up to heaven, higher than his head) that now he will wait Palinodes Recantations, and Retractions, yea he will presently eats his own words, though he were sure like Earl Goodwines drink they should choke him, and therefore because he felt the divine fury creeping into his brain, he requested them ●o play off the sack and begun, for he would instantly power out a parodox to their praises, which should do them more honour when they were dead, than twenty Epitaphs, they thanked him for his pains, and in requital promised to deal with his Philistines. (his creditors) that are now come upon him, to see if they could take them off, and so departed, their backs being turned, thus he begins.  
What a rank Pagon am I to wish destruction to this Temple of peace. What Infidel's are all you (for by this 〈◊〉 all that lay on the masters side were swarming about him,) what Infidel's are all you, that cannot be brought into a belief, that there is no place of safety but a Prison? Look upon your lodgings, Look upon your walks, Look upon your Bulwarks, Look upon any thing that is worth the looking upon, and you may safely swear no Lord lives such a life as a Prisoner, for note by what stairs he climbs up to his state. At his first entrance is he led through the streets in pomp, and the more coil he keeps, (I speak it by experience, my brave garnish dri●kers, upon rest●rnights work) the more gallantly comes he in triumph, for then Clubs are cried, hath he his g●arde of Halberdiers, then do an hundred of Uoluntaries follow at his heels, when before he could scarce keep one man, being entered, the gates are strongly shut, and there stands his Porters and double Porters, all whom he keeps in Fee: his Cooks are ready to provide his Diet, if his purse have a stomach; his Clerks likewise are attendant in their offices, and all these do live by him, when he goes to bed, so careful are they over his life, and his forth coming again, that he cannot lie down but he is watched.  
How worthy therefore are they to lie by the heels, that dare not come near a Prison, and are ashamed to enter it, because 'tis given out that none shall lie there but Swaggerers and Banckerupts, that it is a place of ill husbandry, a receptable for thieves, a drinking house for Beggars, and that though a man commit all the villainies that are set down in the Chronicles, yet there he shall be sure to ly● safe. But Oh you that thus go about to slander such Ancient house, (which you cannot do, how much do you overshoot yourselves? Is not a Prison the only best school, (foundded by our forefathers) wherein is learned Experience? Experience breeds Wisdom, Wisdom is mother to Honour, Honour to Riches, Riches to Hearts-ease, so then on the tree of Thraldom, you see you may gather the fruits of cont●utation.  
I speak this to the comfort of all Captains, and Lieutenants, whom a little swelling of War, makes proud, and the laziness of a peace, makes arrant beggars, and where can they appoint a better Rander-vous, than in a Prison? I speak it for the good of all young Quats, who (being sent up by the honest farmers (their Fathers) to be turned into Gentlemen by finding the Law, study only how to Moot, that is, how to cast all their feathers, and to what nest can they fly, to lie warm in, and to hide their nakedness, but into this goodly bird-cages? O you that are the Poets of these sinful times, (over whom the Players have now got the upper hand, by making fools of the poor country people, in driving them like flocks of Geese to ●●t cackling in an old barn: and to swallow down those plays, for new, which here every punk and her squire (like the Interpreter and his poppet) can rend out by heart, they are so stale, and therefore so stinking▪ I know the Lady Pecunia and you come very hardly together, & therefore trouble not you upon this ancient Theatre, you present, your Tragical Sceines, for here you shall be sure to be clapped, Nay your mercenary soldiers, or you that are the Swissers to players (I mean the hired men) by all the prognostications that I have sêene this year, you make but a hard and a hungry living of it, by strowting up and down after the Wagon; Lea●e therefore O leave the company of such as lick the fat from your herds (if you have any) and come hither, for here I know you will be Sharers.  
Lastly O you Citizens, & you whose craft lies in your hands, It may go warmer to your hearts than Sack, or Aqua vitae, when you shall know that (by keeping in your shops, Plaguy vacations and lame Terms, that have their limbs cut off.) you yourselves are scarce able to stand, yet that (Here) you may employ your stocks; for in a prison men of all Trades, of all professions, may set up, by the Customs of the City.  
But admit these Castles of no comfort (as the ignorant vulgar terms them) had no such appropriations, Charters, nor privileges belonging to them, and that they had not such Ordinance in them, nor were so well manned, as they are: yet the very martial discipline, by which they are held up, is sufficient ●alone● to ●iue them superlative commendations.  
For what place of Government (in any Commonwealth) doth more resemble a Camp than a Prison? The Keepers of it, and the under-keepers, and the Colonels and Captains, and they command all: then have Sergeants, and they double the Files: them have you Clarcks of Bonds, and they be Attorneys: then have you sergeant, and they double the Files: then have you Clarks of the Bonds, and they be Attorneys, Clarcks, who fly out and in, and discover to the besieged prisoner how the enemy's heart (his creditor) lies misconcde in hardness, or with what power of Councillors, witness, petty or grand jury men, he comes marching down to give him battle, then have you pioneers, and they be the ●ame messengers (of the house) who with Paper instruments (called tickets) hobble from place to place, to undermine friends abroad, to try what they will do, and these may properly as I said before, be called pioneers, for these help to dig out the Prisoner. Nay a Prison does yet come nearer to a Camp, by many degrees, & can show far more noble marks of it than the former: for Prisoners lie as hard as Soldiers, drink as hard as soldiers, swear as hard as soldiers, go as tattered as soldiers, are as lousy as soldiers, as discontent as soldiers, go cursing up and down as bravely as soldiers, and to conclude, are as little regarded as soldiers.  
How much then are we beholden to them that keep us here in pay? nay what thanks are they worthy of, that put us unto so strong a garrison, and who be those but sergeant? sergeant are the cunning pilots that in all storms bring men safely to these havens of peace and contemplation: the compass they sail by, is the Law, which is touched by the Loadstone of Reason; the points of that compass, are the customs of the City, upon which whosoever keeps not directly, he runs himself on the sands, and so sinks, or upon rocks, and so splits.  
sergeant are those nymble-footed Cenii, that walk at men's elbows (on either side, one) to keep them upright. They are neither Russians nor Turks (though some count them) that beat ill debterson the shins, or on the soles of their feet (like e●ecutioners) to make them confess the debt, But (knowing how coldly an ill word from their mouth goes to a man's heart, (when any by chance fall into their company, they presently play the physicians, and counsel him to step into a Zaverne, & to drink wine to comfort his poor heart, or if wine do no good, then to send for his friends about him, to try if the sight of them can make him any better, and this is an act piteous and charitable. So that to a man that is meatefyed in flesh, and whose state (in this world) is desperate, a Sergeant may serve instead of a Death's head, to put him in mind of his last day, and what he is to come to.  
They are called in Latin (and so set down upon Records seruientes ad Clawm: and most properly have they that title bestowed upon them: for Claws hath many fields quartered out in Heraldry, and all are the Ensigns of a Sergeants arms, some times Claws signifies a Nail, and fitly may they challenge a dignity by that word, for they are nailers of men to their words, promises, Contracts, Bills, Bonds, & Reckonings, they join them to the Grounds of the Law and justice, from whence (like unseasoned boards that warp and fly out) they would (but for them) start and reuolt● Sometimes Claws is taken for a Key, and thereby likewise have they an Atcheivement of honour: for what are Sergeants but strong Keys (that can hardly be broken) to open men's hearts and make them look into their estates and by looking to know themselves, which the Philosopher saith is the only wisdom in the world, and the hardest to learn, Claws is also a club, the double property of which is in every officer, for his duty is (& so is his oath) to beat down wrong and to guard the Right; he must as soon strike the rich, as the poor, and be as ready to take the poor man's part, as the rich, he is like death to spare no man. All which attributes, necessarily depend upon his function, and because no one word could simply in itself express them all, they were made up into one lump or mass together, and of them all (being so compounded) is made the sergeant Mace, which is nothing else but the Badge of his place, and figure of his authority.  
What should I say more of Sergeants, though I cannot speak too much of them? they are the painfullest members of the common wealth: they are the laws Factors, the citizens men of War, that bring in bad Dettors, who like pirates have seized upon others goods, as lawful prize: they are the scriveners good Lords and masters, they are Relievers of prisons, good Benefactors, to Vintner's Hall: they are keepers of young Gentlemen, from whorehouse, and drivers of poor Handicrafts men, from bowling allies, In one word they are the only bringers-home of the prodigal Child, to feed upon veal after he hath lived upon Acorns. The officers that by reason of the burnt Sack went forth with high colours before, are now in smoking clouds of Sweat returned back again, as if it had been just their Qu. to enter at the fag end of their commendations: the news that they brought (uno ore) and which they uttered with a high and full mouth together, was, that he must presently go along with them and meet all his creditors (in a more dangerous place than the field) in a Tavern; for joy of which, he bestowed his ultimum in wine upon his fellow-commoners, who were all busy in providing pen ink and paper, to register (In aeternam rei memoriam) his learned Encomium of them, their college, and their officers, whilst he descended in more state of attendants, than he came up in, for the most part of his money (which flew out as easily as smoke out of a Tobacco pipe) was cut out (like loins of mutton at the Inns) in fees, and a general volley of Farewells from all the grates being shot off at his departure, the key was turned, and he uno graditur comitatus Achate. hath no more but one only Sergeant waiting upon him, (to avoid wonder) whilst the rest of the Infantry, that took him prisoner, came marching softly behind, to share in his ransom Cock-Watch had no great desire to follow, but stealing out, (as he came in) like an Owl from an ivy to●, he made haste to his old Rendez because Sessions was at hand, where what is done the Crier will proclaim it.  
FINIS.