Keep within compass DICK and ROBIN: There is no harm in all this. OR, A merry Dialogue between two or three merry cobblers, with divers Songs full of Mirth and news, which may very fitly be applied to these times.  
By Tho. Herbert.  
LONDON, Printed for Thomas Lambert, and are to be sold at his shop in Smithfield, over against Hosier Lane at the sign of the Bunch of Grapes. 1641.   

A Dialogue between Dick and Rohin: OR, Two merry country cobblers.  Dick. 
WEll met honest Robin, I am glad that it is my fortune once more to meet with, thee before thou art hanged?  Rob. 
Why thou whoreson rascal dost thou think ever I make account to be hanged?  Dick. 
I if thou be'st not, I dare to be hanged or thee, if ever thy wise be pleased.  Rob. 
When my wife is pleased I think in my conscience the world will be at an end: god's-foot I have such a wife as I think the devil hath not such another in his dominion.  Dick. 
Why, what atles her?  Rob. 
Prithee Dick tell me, wast thou ever in London?  Dick. 
Yes that I have, what then?  Rob. 
And didst thou ever hear a thing called Boe. bell ring there?  Dick. 
Yes that I have by a good token, I once walking in Cheapside to buy three yards of black pudding, the Bell made such a humming in my years, as if a thousand Tinkers had been at work there.  Rob. 
But didst thou sirrah Dick here my Wife: when her tongue is upon the pin of scolding, (which is almost at all times) thou wouldst think that thou wert a-hunting with the devil's Reagles, which were scenting after a city perifogging Lawyer.  Dick. 
Is she so well versed then in the art of scolding?  Rob. 
I dare pawn my ears that Ovid had never better skill in his de Arte Amandi,  Dick. 
Thou speak'st Latin Robin.  Rob. 
A foolish sentence which I have heard often repeated, which they say in our vulgar Translation, is the Art of Love.  Dick. 
Ay, but is scolding her worst fault?  Rob. 
No, hang her: I caught her not long since lying chick by choule with a satin Doublet.  Dick. 
Thou art in jest art thou not?  Rob. 
I cannot tell whether I am in jest or no; but I am sure I found her making me a Cuckold in good earnest. Nay, and I'll tell thee what a trick she served me too: I like a good honest man, going to make a disjunctive betwixt her and the satin doublet, she like a whore as she was, very orderly, leaps out of her bed, and without any mercy at all, snatches up a good handsome crab-stick, and belaboured my jacket very handsomely, and when she had done, she went to bed again unto her satin doublet, to whom she lay very closely.  Dick. 
And what didst thou do all the while?  Rob. 
Faith I'll tell thee, when I saw there was no remedy, very fair and honestly I lighted them with a Candle, for fear least betwixt them they should make my horns grow crooked.  Dick. 
Faith, thou hadst very hard fortune to meet with her.  Rob. 
Push, I'll tell thee more yet, when we were married first, if I had given her the least occasion which could be, she would have been up very early in a morning, when her neighbours did think like a good huswife she had been up beating of her Bucks, she very courageously was bombasting of my poor carcase?  Dick. 
Can she fight so well?  Rob. 
Faith for a little while I durst have turned her loose to the strongest devil in hell for about or two.  Dick. 
And is she as bad still?  Rob. 
No, no, (God be thanked) the world's well amended now.  Dick. 
How didst thou do to tame her?  Rob. 
I'll tell you; at length being resolutely bent with all the might and power I had, I tied her up to rack and manger, where I kept her so long fasting, until she swore never to scold, or lift up her hand against me any more.  Dick. 
And hath she been as good as her word.  Rob. 
Let her break it when she pleases, I know the way how to feed her again with the same sauce.  Dick. 
But leaving of this discourse concerning thy wife: canst thou tell me any news from abroad?  Rob. 
In-faith Robin I can tell thee none, but can sing some.  Dick. 
Prithee do: but be sure thou keep thy tongue within compass.  Rob. 
Let me alone for that: wherefore open your ears.  

Song.  
Some say at London there is news.  
That great men transport over shoes,  
(For which I'm sure the country rues)  
By whole sale.  
Some say that Tradesmen are grown sad,  
Because of late they were so mad,  
To lose the thing which once they had,  
True dealing.  
And I do also understand,  
That Patentees must out of hand,  
Be banished from our English land  
For nimming.   Dick. 
Art thou sure robin that there is no harm in all this, art thou not out of compass.  Rob. 
As sure as I take this Can and drink to thee: I am sure there is no harm in all this.  Dick. 
Then prithee let's have the second part to the same tune,  Rob. 
A Bore I hear of late was caught,  
For eating meat and leaving draff,  
He must be better manners taught  
By cutting.  
Some said in England was the Pope,  
But I did ever better hope,  
He should be first choked in a rope,  
You know where.  Dick. 
I drink to thee Robin, I am sure there hath been no harm in all this.  Rob. 
More news I have you yet to tell,  
Wherefore I pray you mark it well,  
I'll show you what lately befell  
To Robin:  
He went so much upon the score,  
That he could trusted be no more,  
Wherefore he ran out of the door  
Most swiftly.  
From whence he went away to Sea,  
Sure he was bitten with a Flea,  
For he could not but pity plea,  
For cheating.  
The hostess when her guest was gone,  
Did wring her hands, and make great moan,  
And many times did fetch a groan  
For Robin.  
O Robin thou art gone, quoth she,  
And played the knave thou hast with me:  
O that I were but now with thee  
a-scolding.  
Then rapt she out an oath and swore,  
That she her purse would lend no more  
To such as would run on the score,  
And cheat her.  Dick. 
Why but Robin is thy names-sake run away?  Rob. 
Yes faith Dick that he is, and it is reported, that he fled as swift as if he had been carried in a swallows belly.  Dick. 
Is't possible? I'll tell thee (Robin) he was as fair a speecht fellow as one should have heard speak in a summer's day.  Rob. 
I'll warrant thee he owed more scores than one: or else I know that he had such friends as would not have suffered him to run away for so small a trifle as that was.  Dick. 
It may be so indeed: yet Robin, thou hast kept within compass, upon which I drink to thee, that thou Mayst whet thy whistle: I am sure that there is no harm in all this.  Rob. 
Prithee Dick tell me why thou art so cautious of being harmful?  Dick. 
So soon as thy song is ended, I'll tell thee,  
More news I have yet to relate,  
'tis not concerning any State,  
But of a Knave and a make bate,  
Called cutthroat.  
His purse is full, and he doth wrong;  
Alas! he hath lived too long:  
But now he is in prison strong,  
As some say.  
He set his neighbours by the ears,  
And put them in a thousand fears,  
His poor wife she shed brinish tears,  
For him knave.  
He ruled them like as a Lord,  
And bound them with a threefold cord,  
And all upon his own accord,  
Most basely.  
But now he singeth in a Cage,  
A way to cool his fiery rage,  
And some say he must tread a stage,  
Called gallows.  Dick. 
This was a hundred to one (Robin) Rich, cut throat of our parish.  Rob. 
The very same.  Dick. 
God's-foot, I knew him very well, he was Constable once was he not?  Rob. 
Yes that he was.  Dick. 
He was a devilish domineering fellow: but a pox on him, I have reason to remember him, through woeful experience.  Rob. 
Why did he ever do thee any hurt?  Dick. 
Yes; when he was Constable he made me sit for three whole hours together with my leg in a pigeon hole: look if the very print of the Stocks be not here still. Well but if the Rope and he be married together, as I live, I'll not mend a shoe, or boot, but will make holiday on purpose to dance at his wedding.  Rob. 
So will many a good fellow more besides thy se●fe: I'll tell thee, our whole Corporation of cobblers are resolved that day not to pluck a stitch.  Dick. 
Hast thou any more news to sing, I am sure there hath been no harm in all this?  Rob. 
A little more, and then I conclude.  Dick. 
Let's have it.  Rob. 
As I was walking I did meet  
Poor John the ploughman on his feet,  
And as he went he did me greet  
Most kindly.  
I asked him whither he did go  
So fast along? he full of woe,  
Did say against a bended bow  
To London.  
He went to sue for his own right,  
For which he wronged was by might,  
And forced for to take his flight  
From his own.  
And now he said was his intent  
To go unto the Parliament,  
To see if that he could present  
His wronger.  Dick. 
Faith he was the wiser for that, for as I heard the poor man wronged is sure to be righted there.  Rob. 
Then by my consent all England should go thither.  Dick. 
Nay but keep within compass, lest harm be found in that.  Rob. 
You are still so cautions: I pray now my song is ended, show your reason for it.  Dick. 
I will because I hear daily many busy fellows talk about that which nothing concerns them: as that such a Lord hath done more than he can answer, and such a one is committed, and such a one, whilst the Pillory tells him a tale, he must lend an ear to it: what have such poor shrubs as thou and I to do with such matters? let every Tub stand upon his own bottom; then may we talk and spare not, and yet keep within compass.  Rob. 
Thou sayst very true.  Dick. 
Now I have showed you my reason, let us drink the other pot, and sing thou the other Song, and so we will bequeathe ourselves to our quiet rest.  Rob. 
Listen to me then.  
You that in quiet mean to sleep,  
Be sure your tongues ye silent keep,  
For danger in a hole will creep,  
By babbling.  
Meddle not with state affairs,  
Nor those which sit in great men's chairs.  
Lest that you chance to lose your ears  
For lying.  
If we be merry sing a song,  
Sweet and merry, not too long,  
Drink up your liquour good and strong  
In silence.  
So shall you sing and sleep secure,  
So shall your mirth daily endure;  
My counsel for to take be sure,  
Good fellows.  
And so I bid you all good night:  
If that my news it have been slight;  
I'll tell you better when 'tis light,  
And sunshine.  
FINIS.