Newes good and new
To the tune of Twenty pound a yeere.
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John N Ow welcome neighbour Rowland ,
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From London welcome home,
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What newes is there I pray you?
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From thence I heare you come.
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Row. The best that ere you heard,
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Youle say't when I you shew.
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John. I hardly can beleeve it,
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Tis too good to be true.
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Row. The Lawyer in his pleading
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to gaine gives no [res]pect,
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Though Cli[e]nts have no mony,
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he doth not them neglect:
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But truly pleades their cause,
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of these there be not few.
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John. I never will beleeve it,
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Tis too good to be true.
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In Lords there's no ambition,
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in Ladies theres no pride,
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The Clergie loves no monie
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no woman's wanton-eyde,
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Each one that wicked liv'd,
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doth strive to live anew.
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John. I never will bele[i]ve it,
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Tis too good to be true.
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Row I there did know an Usurer,
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ith hundred tooke threescore:
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But he is now repented,
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and gave all to the poore,
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And daily fasts and prayes,
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and hates that damned Crew,
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John. I never will beleeve it,
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Tis too good to be true.
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Row. Your Tradesmen hate short measures
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false lights, and falser waights:
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Nor will they in their bargaines,
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use oathes as cunning baites,
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To fetch the simple ore,
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theres no such cunning Jew.
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John . I never will beleeve it,
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Tis too good to be true.
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Row. No Vintner there doth mingle,
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his wine with water pure:
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And then doth sweare tis neatest:
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in London's no such Brewer.
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Of that they all are cleare,
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they can, but will not brew.
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John. I never will beleeve it.
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Tis too good to be true.
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Row. No Ostler there will rob you,
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of either oates or hay:
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No Tapster nickes the pot there,
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but fils it as he may:
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No hoast will there be drunke,
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no hostesse proves untrue.
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John. I never will beleeve it,
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Tis too good to be true.
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Row. Your Brokers there are honest
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and are not ranckt with knaves,
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They lend their coine for conscience,
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which makes them ore their graves
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To have their good deeds writ,
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whose number is but few.
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John. I never will beleeve it,
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Tis too good to be true.
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Too good to be true
The Second Part.
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Row. A Sergeant late turn'd honest,
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and not abus'd his place:
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A Baily became pitifull,
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and wail'[d] his prisoners case:
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And both to goodnesse fram'd
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their former course anew.
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John. I never will beleeve this,
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Tis too good to be true.
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Row. The Landlords there are pitiful
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and racke not poore mens rents,
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The tenant there is dutifull,
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and payes what he indents.
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The rich the poore doe love:
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of these there are but few.
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John. I never will beleeve this,
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Tis too good to be true.
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Row. Jailors are tender hearted,
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that doe their prisons keepe:
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To thinke on poore mens miseries,
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their yron hearts doe weepe:
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The poore men they relieve,
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and give the rich their due.
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John. I never will beleeve this,
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tis too good to be true.
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Ro. You there shall see no drunkards,
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in walking through the street:
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The stockes stand ever emptie,
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all's sober that you meet.
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He's hated that's but seene,
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amidst a drunken crew.
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John. I never will beleeve this,
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Tis too good to be true.
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Row. Picthatch, and garden Allies,
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Turnebull, and Mutton lane,
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Of truth are now turn'd honest,
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and hate unlawfull gaine.
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Bridewell did them convert,
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and clad their backes in blew.
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John. I never will beleeve this,
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tis too good to be true.
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Row. Fleetstreet ha's nere a cheater,
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White-fryers ne're a whore:
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Tiburne is now delivered,
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and beareth theeves no more.
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And S[mith]field now is rid,
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of those horse-cheating crew.
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John. I never will beleeve this,
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tis too good to be true.
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Row. Ludgate ha's nere a bankrupt
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that can, but will not pay:
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The Counter nere a Prodigall,
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that turnes the night to day,
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By vile disordered life,
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which age doth after rue.
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John. I never will beleeve this,
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tis too good to be true.
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This newes doth much amaze me,
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the which you have me told,
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And truely to beleeve it,
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I dare not be too bold.
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I would [not] true it were,
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as it to me is new.
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But I will not beleeve it,
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tis too good to be true.
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