A dialogue betweene Master Guesright and poore neighbour Needy. Or A few proofes both reall and true, shewing what men for mony will doe. To a pleasant new tune, called, But I know what I know.

About this Item

Title
A dialogue betweene Master Guesright and poore neighbour Needy. Or A few proofes both reall and true, shewing what men for mony will doe. To a pleasant new tune, called, But I know what I know.
Author
E. F. (Edward Ford), fl. 1630?-1660.
Publication
Printed at London :: for F. Cowles,
[ca. 1640?]
Rights/Permissions

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Subject terms
Ballads, English -- 17th century.
Link to this Item
http://name.umdl.umich.edu/B00046.0001.001
Cite this Item
"A dialogue betweene Master Guesright and poore neighbour Needy. Or A few proofes both reall and true, shewing what men for mony will doe. To a pleasant new tune, called, But I know what I know." In the digital collection Early English Books Online. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/B00046.0001.001. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed June 16, 2024.

Pages

Page 75

The second part,

to the same tune.

[illustration]

Your Tapser is growne a right honest man, For he will misreckon no more than he ran, For by his Iug, his Pot, and his Pipe, He has danc't himselfe an Officer ripe.
Your out-landish Doctour most ready will be, To cure you of your infirmity, Which being effected, he for his skill, Desires no more but a golden Pill.
Nay, what makes your Land-lord let housen by lease, That you may live in 'em daily peace, But that he imagines and has an intent, You will not faile for to pay him his rent.
What makes your In-kéeper to harbour the poore, And unto all comers set open his dore, But that he intends if possible can, To have his reward of every man.
What makes your Vsurer ever your friend, And be so officious his money to lend, But that he intends to bring you in thrall, And get if he can, the Devill and all.
Nay, what makes your Hang-man, I tell you but so Such a base office for to under-goe, But that he hopes, and ever preages, To have all their cloathes as well as his wages.
What makes your Broker so often to cry, Sée what you lacke friend what will you buy, But that he would as his neighbours all doe, Get if he could for one penny two.
What makes your Carrier to traverse the land, Nay, what makes your Souldier fight while he ran stand, But that they intend my owne déerest honey, To gaine this same paultry thing called money.
What makes your footh drawer to cut off your corne, What makes your Sow-gelder to wind up his horne, Nay, what makes the world to do as they doe, But that they would purchase this same mony too.
Nay, neighbour theres more then all these are yet, Which I for brevities sake doe omit, But these I hope will very well prove, That men doe more for money then love.
Well neighbour Guesright if this same be true, Then home we will straight without more adoe, And what we intend to none we will tell, But kéepe to our selves and so fare-you well.
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