Mock-beggars Hall, with his situation in the spacious Country, called, Any where.  
To the Tune of It is not your Northern Nanny; or Sweet is the Lass that loves me.  
 woodcut of a man and woman outside a castle  

IN ancient times when as plain dealing  
Was most of all in fashion,  
There was not then half so much stealing,  
Nor men so given to passion;  
But now a days, truth so decays,  
And false knabes there are plenty,  
So pride exceeds all worthy deeds,  
While Mock-beggar hall stands empty.   

The bangman now the fashion keeps,  
And swaggers like our gallants;  
While love and charity sits and weeps,  
To see them waste their Lalents;  
Spend all their store upon a whore,  
Such Prodigals there are plenty;  
Thus brabe it out, while men them stout,  
And Mock-beggar hall stands empty.   

Ned Swash hath fetched his  from pawn  
With dropping of the barrel,  
Joan Duit hath hought a smock of Lawn,  
And now gins to quarrel,  
She thinks herself poor ●lly elf,  
To be the best of twenty,  
And yet the whore is wondrous poor,  
While Mock-beggar hall stands empty.   

I read in ancient times of poor.  
That men of worthy calling,  
Built Almshouses and Spitals ●ore,  
Which now are all down falling;  
And few men seek them to repair,  
Nor now is there one among twenty,  
That for good deeds will take any care,  
While Mock-beggar hall stands empty.   

Farm-houses which their fathers built  
And Land well kept by tillage,  
Their prodigal Sons have sold for gilt,  
In every Town and Village:  
To the City and Court they do resort  
With gold and Silver plenty;  
And there they spend their time in sport,  
While Mock-beggar hall stands empty.   

Yeung Landlords when to age they come,  
Their rents they would be racking,  
The tenant must give a golden sum,  
Or else he is turned packing:  
Great fines and double rend beside,  
Or else they'll not contented be,  
It is for to maintain their monstrous pride,  
While Mock-beggar hall stands empty.   

Their fathers went in homely freeze,  
And wore good plain cloth breeches;  
Their ●●ockings with the same agrees,  
Sowed on with good strong stitches:  
They were not called Gentlemen,  
Though they had wealth great plenty,  
Now every gull's grown worshipful,  
While Mock-beggar hall stands empty.   

The second part, to the same Tune.  
 woodcuts of a beggar and a nobleman  

NO GOld nor Silver parchment lace  
Was worn but by our Nobles,  
Nor would the honest harmless face,  
Wear Cuffs with so many doubles;  
Their hands were to their shints sown then,  
Yet cloth was full as plenty;  
Now one hand hath more cloth than ten,  
While Mock-beggar hall stands empty.   

Now we are Apes in imitation,  
The more indéed's the pity;  
The City follows the stranger's fashion,  
The Country follows the City:  
And ere one fashion is known throughout,  
Another they will invent ye;  
'Tis all your gallants study about,  
While Mock-beggar hall stands empty.   

Me thinks it is a great reproach  
To those that are nobly descended,  
When for their pleasures cannot have a coach,  
Wherewith they might be attended;  
But thery beggarly Jack and Gill,  
That eat scant a good meal in twenty,  
Must through the strée to be jaunted still  
While Mock-beggar hall stands empty.   

There's some are rattled thorough the streets,  
Probatum est, I tell it;  
Whose names are wrapped in parchment shéets,  
It grieus their hearts to spell it,  
They are not able two men to keep,  
With a coachman they must contented be,  
Which at Goldsmith's hall door in's box lies a sleep,  
While Mock-beggar hall stands empty,   

Our Gentlewomen whose means is nothing  
To that which they make show off,  
Must use all the fashions in their clothing,  
Which they can hear or know of;  
They take such care themselves to deck,  
That money is oft so scanty,  
The belly is forced to complain to the back,  
While Mock-beggar hall stands empty.   

There is a crus, and a very mad crew,  
That about the Town doth swagger,  
That seems like Knights to the people's view,  
And wear both sword and dagger;  
That swéetens their  once a weak,  
Hunger with them is so plenty,  
The Broker will nothabe them to seek,  
While mock beggar hall stands empty.   

Some Gentlemen and Citizens hake  
In divers eminent places,  
Erected houses fine and heave,  
Which stood for the owner's graces,  
Let any poor to such a door  
Come, they expecting plenty,  
They there may ask till their throats are sore,  
For Mock-beggar hall stands empty.   

Thus plainly I to you declare,  
How strangely times are changed;  
What humours in the people are,  
How virtue is estranged:  
Now every Jackanapes can strut,  
Such Coxc●mbs there are plenty,  
But at the last in Prison shut,  
So Mock-beggar hall stands empty.     

London, Printed for Richard Harper, at the Bible and Harp in Smithfield.