Poor Robins Dream; commonly called Poor Charity.
I know no Reason but this harmless Riddle
May as well be Printed as Sung to a Fiddle.
To a compleat Tune, well known by Musicians, and many others: Or, A game at cards.
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HOw now good fellow what all amort;
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I pray thee tell me what is the news,
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Trading is dead and I am sorry for't
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which makes me look wors then I use,
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If a man hath no employment whereby to get a penny
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he hath no enjoyment if that he wanteth money
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And Charity is not used by many.
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I have nothing to spend nor i've nothing to lend
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i've nothing to do, I tarry at home,
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Sitting in my Chair, drawing near to the fire,
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I fell into a sleepe like an idle drone.
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And as I slept I fell into a dream,
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I see a Play acted without e're Theam,
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But I could not tell what the Play did mean.
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But afterwards I did perceive
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and something more I did understand,
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The Stage was the world wherein we live,
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the Actors they were all mankind,
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And when the play is ended the Stage down they fling
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then there will be no difference in this thing,
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Between a Beggar and a King.
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The first that Acted I protest,
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was Time with a Glass & a Sithe in his hand
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With the Globe of the World upon his breast,
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to shew that he could the same command:
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There's a time for to work, and a time for to play
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a time for to borrow, and a time for to pay,
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And a time that doth call us all away,
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COnscience in order takes his place,
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and very gallantly plays his part,
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He fears not to fly in a Rulers face,
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although it cuts him to the heart:
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He tells him that all this is the later Age
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Which put the Actors into such a rage,
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That they kick'd poor Conscience off the stage.
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Plain-Dealing presently appears
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in habit like a simple man,
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The Actors at him mocks and jears;
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pointing their fingers as they ran:
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How came this fellow into our company,
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away with him many a gallant did cry.
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For Plain-dealing will a Beggar dye.
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Dissimulation mounted the Stage,
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but he was cloathed in gallant attire,
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He was acquainted with Youth and Age,
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many his company did desire;
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They entertain'd him in their very breast,
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There he could have harbour, and quietly rest,
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For Dissemblers and Turn-coats fare the best.
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Then cometh in poor Charity
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methinks she looked wondrous old,
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She quiver'd and she quak'd most piteously,
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it griev'd me to think she was grown so cold:
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She had been i'th' City, & in the Country,
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Amongst the Lawyers and Nobility,
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But there was no room for poor Charity.
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Then in comes Truth, not cloathed in Wool,
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but like unto youth in his white Laun sleeves
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And sayes the Land it is full, full, full,
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too full of Rebels worse than Thieves.
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The City's full of poverty, the French are full of pride
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Phanaticks full of Envy, which order can't abide
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And the Usurers Bags are full beside.
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Hark how Bellona's Drums they do beat,
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methinks they go rattling through the Town
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Hark how they thunder through the street
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as tho they would shake the Chimneys down,
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Then comes in Mars, the great God of War,
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And bids us face about and be as we were:
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But when I awak'd I sate in my Chair.
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