The KNIGHT and the BEGGER-WENCH.  

Which doth a wanton Prank unfold,  
In as merry a Story as ever was told.   
To the Tune of, The King's Delight: or, Turncoat, etc.  
 

I Met with a jovial Beggar,  
And into the fields I led her,  
and I laid her upon the ground;  
Her face did not invite me,  
Nor her smock did much delight me,  
but I think the young Whore was sound;  
With Ladies both fresh and gay  
I often did sport and play,  
Yet a Beggar I'll take  
For variety's sake,  
She'll please me as well as they.   

I have a good Wife, as fair  
As ever drew English air,  
her pleasure is past compare,  
Her cherry lips, cheeks, and eyes,  
Her belly, her breast, and thighs,  
might any but I suffice;  
With her I so often pray,  
And weary my time away,  
That a fouler to me,  
Would be fairer th●n she,  
  

This Beggar I should describe,  
Without any hope of bribe,  
was one● the Maundering tribe;  
She had a fine foot and leg,  
As ●●●●ble as do or stag,  
and then she began to beg,  
So soon as my horse she sees,  
She fell down upon her knees,  
The Whore had a sack,  
That hung at her back  
Well furnished with bread and cheese.   

She struck me into a dump,  
the jade was both young and plump,  
with a round and ranting rump;  
Her feature had so much force,  
It raised in me remorse,  
and drew me quite off my horse;  
But when I began to woo,  
She told me she would not do●  
Quoth I, Pretty Mort,  
Let me show you some sport;  
She kiss me, and answered 〈◊〉.  
  

My horse to a twig I tied,  
The Beggar-wench then replied,  
Good Master get up and r●de;  
Yes, so I will strait (thought I,)  
With that I drew something nigh,  
she struggled and cried, Fie, fie,  
I am but a Beggar by breed;  
Quoth I, Let me do this deed,  
For he that will scorn,  
A Beggar-wench born.  
May want a good turn at need.   

Then into her arms I claps,  
Quoth she, Now I'm in your traps,  
what shall I do with my scraps?  
Throw them in the bush, said I.  
No, no, she did strait reply,  
there's pig, and pudding, and pie,  
We beg for better or worse,  
My blessings I will not curse.  
Why then, quoth I,  
Go run presently  
And throw it ' thwart my horse.   

She then (in a merry vein)  
Did trip to me back again,  
to put me out of my pain.  
She dazelled so my sight,  
That neither by day or night,  
I ever had such delight,  
So close to me now she clings,  
And flutters abroad her wings.  
But my bashful jade,  
Ashamed of the trade,  
Broke lose and away she flings.   

I rise and away ran I,  
The Beggar wench then did cry,  
My pig and my pudding-pie;  
I ran and I cursed and swore,  
Until I came to my door,  
but the horse was got home before:  
I bade the Wench stay behind,  
And told her I would be kind;  
But when I came home,  
I looked like a Mome,  
I wished that I had been blind.   

My Wife and my Neighbours all  
Did laugh, ye might hear 'em bawl  
from Temple-bar to Whitehall,  
My Sweet-heart's provant was found,  
Which lay in the wallet bound,  
and scattered about the ground;  
The sight of my Wife did daunt,  
And make my heart prick and pant,  
Sir Thomas, quoth she,  
And spoke merrily,  
Where got you this good provant?   

Thought I, it is best to bear up,  
Although of this venomous cup  
I take but a sorrowful sup,  
In the twinkling of one's eyes,  
I thought of a thousand lies,  
but ne'er a one would suffice;  
I many things had in doubt,  
Yet could not well bring 'em about,  
As I went to begin,  
The Wench came in,  
And so came the story out.   

My Lady did laugh outright,  
As if she had much delight,  
but I found it not so at night;  
I gave the poor Wench a piece,  
But wished she had been in Greece,  
to tell such a tale as this;  
My Madam doth make it slight,  
But I have got nothing by't,  
For when she wants her wish,  
It is thrown in my dish,  
I'd better been hanged outright.   
FINIS.