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.

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.

[illustration]

[illustration]

WEll met neighbour Needy, what walking alone, Fow comes it I pray that you thus sigh and groane, The cause by your physiognomie straight I can tell, And know by the same that all is not well.

In truth master Guesright you speake very true, For money I want, and beléeve so do you. And therefore éene say, and do what you please, I know you are sicke of my sore disease.

For me neighbour Needy, the world is so hard. That solely my selfe I now cannot guard Besides young and old loves coyne so intire, That have it they will though out of the fire.

Nay, good neighbour Needy, I pray say not so, For then you will wrong a many I know, Besides I no way perswaded can be, That money is loved in the highest degrée.

Money if you thinke so I instant will prove, That few or none but money do love, And when I have done I know you will say, Tis all reall truth, then harken I pray.

Inprimis your Tailor, is loving and kind, Nor doe I with him any fault find, But rest you assured, and take it from mée, That most he doth, he doth for his fée.

Your Mercer in courtesie seldome forbeares. To show you the prime and best of his wares, But if that a reason you'd have me to show, 'Tis cause he would get by the bargaine I know.

Your Barber most nimbly will trimme ••ort fine Patto, And if that you please turne up yorr mo•••• ••atto, But marke you what followes my kind loving neighbour, He lookes to be gratified well for his labour.

Your Vintner will spread you his linnen most fine, And bring you both Super, Tobaco and Wine, And having so done requires but this To pay him his shot, which you must not misse.

Againe this is true, as I know doe tell yée, A Cooke in Pye-Corner will fill up your belly, And when you are satisfied he like an Asse, Desires no money but éene for his sawce.

The second part,

to the same tune.

[illustration]

Your Taps••er 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 pre••ages, 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.

FINIS.