Poor Robin's Dream, commonly called, Poor Charity.  
I know no reason but this harmless Riddle,  
May as well be Printed as Sung to a Fiddle.  
To a complete Tune, known by Musicians and many others, or, Game at Cards.  
 
 

HOw now good fellow, what all amort?  
I pray thee tell me what is the news?  
Trading is dead, and I am sorry for't.  
which makes me look worse than I use;  
If a man hath no employment whereby to get a penny  
He hath no enjoyment if that he wanteth money,  
And charity is not used by many.   

I have nothing to spend nor i've nothing to lend,  
I've nothing to do, I tarry at home,  
Sitting in my chair, drawing near to the fire,  
I fell asleep like an idle drone,  
And as I slept I fell into a dream,  
I saw a Play acted without e'er a theme,  
But I could not tell what the Play did mean,   

Yet afterwards I did perceive,  
and something more did understand,  
The Stage was the world wherein we live,  
the Actors they were all man kind,  
When the Play is ended, the Stage down they'll fling  
Then there will be no difference in this thing  
Between a Beggar and a King.   

The first that acted I protest,  
was Time with a Glass and a scythe in his hand  
The Globe of the world upon his breast,  
to show he could the same command,  
there's a time for to work, and a time for to play  
A time for to borrow, and a time for to pay,  
And a time that calls us all away.   
 

COnscience in order takes his place  
and very gallantly plays his part,  
He fears not to fly in a Ruler's face  
although it cuts him to the heart,  
He told them all this is the latter age,  
Which put the Actors into such a Rage,  
That they kicked poor Conscience from the stage,   

Plain dealing presently appears  
in habit like a simple man,  
The Actors at him mocks and jeers  
pointing their fingers as they ran  
How came this fellow into our company?  
Away with him many a gallant did cry,  
For plain dealing will a beggar die.   

Dissimulation mounted the Stage,  
but he was clothed in gallant attire,  
He was acquainted with youth and age,  
many his company did desire,  
They did entertain him in their very breast,  
There he could have harbour and quietly rest,  
For dissemblers and turncoats fares the best.   

Then cometh in poor Charity,  
methinks t\she looked wondrous old.  
She quivered and quaked most piteously,  
it grieved me to think she was grown so cold,  
She had been i'th' City and in the Country,  
Likewise amongst the Lawyers and the Nobility  
But there was no room for poor Charity.   

Then comes in Truth not clothed in wool,  
but like youth in his white Lawn sléeves  
He says the Land is full, full, full,  
too full of Rebels worse than thiefs,  
The City's full of poverty, the French are full of pride  
fanatics full of envy, that order can't abide,  
And the Usurer's bags are full beside,   

Hark how Bellonia's drums do beat,  
methinks it goes rattling through the town,  
Hark how it thunders through the street  
as if it would shake the Chimney's down,  
Then comes in Mars the great God of war  
And bids us face about, and be as we were,  
And when I awaked I sat in my Chair.   
FINI●   

London, Printed for J. Clark at the Harp and Bible in West Smithfield. With Allowance.