Mock-Beggers Hall, with his scituation 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.
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IN ancient times when as plain dealing
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Was most of all in fashion,
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There was not then half so much stealing,
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Nor men so given to passion;
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But now a days, truth so decays,
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And false knaves there are plenty,
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So pride exceeds all worthy deeds,
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While Mock-begger hall stands empty.
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The hangman now the fashion keeps,
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And swaggers like our gal[l]ants;
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While love and charity sits and weeps,
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To see them waste their Talents;
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Spend all their store upon a whore,
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Such Prodigals there are plenty;
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Thus brave it out, while men them flout,
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And Mock-begger hall stands empty.
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Ned Swash hath fetchd his cloaths from pawn
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With dropping of the barrell,
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Joan Du[s]t hath hought a smock of Lawn,
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And now begins to quarrell,
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She thinks her self poor silly elfe,
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To be the best of twenty,
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And yet the whore is wondrous poor,
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While Mock-begger hall stands empty.
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I read in ancient times of poor,
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That men of worthy calling,
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Built Alms-houses and Spittles store,
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Which now are all down falling;
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And few men seek them to repair,
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Nor now is there one among twenty,
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That for good deeds will take any care,
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While Mock-begger hall stands empty.
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Farm-houses which their fathers built
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And Land well kept by tillage,
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Their prodigall Sons have sold for gilt,
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In every Town and Village:
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To the City and Court they do resort
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With gold and Silver plenty;
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And there they spend their time in sport,
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While Mock-begger hall stands empty.
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Young Land-lords when to age they come,
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Their rents they would be racking,
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The tenant must give a golden sum,
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Or else he is turnd packing:
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Great fines and double rent beside,
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Or else theyl not contented bee,
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It is for to maintain their monstrous pride,
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While Mock-begger hall stands empty.
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Their fathers went in homely freez,
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And wore good plain cloth breeches;
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Their stockings with the same agrees,
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Sowd on with good strong stitches:
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They were not called Gentlemen,
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Though they had wealth great plenty.
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Now every gulls grown worshipfull,
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While Mock-begger hall stands empty.
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The second part, to the same Tune.
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NO Gold nor Silver parchment lace
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Was worn but by our Nobles,
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Nor would the honest harmless face,
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Wear Cuffs with so many doubles;
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Their bands were to their shirts sown then,
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Yet cloth was full as plenty;
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Now one band hath more cloth then ten,
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While Mock-begger hall stands empty.
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Now we are Apes in imitation,
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The more indeeds the pity;
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The City followes the strangers fashion,
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The Country followes the City:
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And ere one fashion is known throughout,
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Another they will invent yee;
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Tis all your gallants study about,
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While Mock-begger hall stands empty.
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Me thinks it is a great reproach
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To those that are nobly descended,
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When for their pleasures cannot have a coach,
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Wherewith they might be attended;
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But every beggerly Jack and Gill,
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That eat scant a good meal in twenty,
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Must through the streets be jaunted still
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While Mock-begger hall stands empty.
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Theres some are rattled thorow the streets,
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Probatum est, I tell it;
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Whose names are wrappd in parchment sheets,
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It grievs their hearts to spell it,
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They are not able two men to keep,
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With a coachman they must contented be,
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Which at Goldsmiths hall door ins box lies a sleep,
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While Mock-begger hall stands empty,
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Our Gentlewomen whose means is nothing
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To that which they make shew off,
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Must use all the fashions in their cloathing,
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Which they can hear or know of;
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They take such care themselvs to deck,
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That money is oft so scanty,
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The belly is forcd to complain to the back,
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While Mock-begger hall stands empty.
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There is a crue, and a very mad crue,
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That about the Town doth swagger,
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That seems like Knights to the peoples view,
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And wear both sword and dagger;
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That sweetens their cloaths once a weak,
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Hunger with them is so plenty,
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The Broker will not have them to seek,
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While mock begger hall stands empty.
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Some Gentlemen and Citizens have
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In divers eminent places,
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Erected houses fine and brave,
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Which stood for the owners graces,
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Let any poor to such a door
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Come, they expecting plenty,
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They there may ask till their throats are sore,
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For Mock-begger hall stands empty.
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Thus plainly I to you declare,
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How strangely times are changed;
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What humors in the people are,
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How virtue is estranged:
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Now [e]very Jackanapes can strut,
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Such Coxcombs there are plenty,
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But at the last in Prison shut,
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So Mock-begger hall stands empty.
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