Being the Pastimes and other Slights,
Of Will-with-a-wispe, and other mad Sprights.
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YOu Airy sprights not a few,
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Of Robin-good-fellowes crew,
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Let's our old sports renew,
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Untill the sky look blew:
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That mortall men may know and see,
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What cuning, merry, mad blades we be.
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Ignis Fatuus first,
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Among the Fairies nurst,
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By Travellers often curst,
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By putting them to the worst:
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But they shall with amazement see,
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What cunning, merry, etc.
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Full many a joviall sparke,
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I put beside his marke,
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As he walkes home ith' darke,
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Through Forrest Grove, or Parke;
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He by a fained fire may see,
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What cunning, etc.
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A small deluding light,
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Presents itselfe in sight,
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And leads him with delight,
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Through uncouth paths all night,
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All weary rent, and torn hee'l see,
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What cunning, etc.
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'Tis called Will with a wispe,
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But terme it what you list,
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It is most manifest
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That many men have mist,
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Their way thereby, and thus you see,
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What cunning, etc.
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Old Robin-good-fellow likewise,
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In many a strange disguise,
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Playes many an enterprize,
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To blind the peoples eyes,
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In sundry shapes he'l let you see,
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What cunning, etc.
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Your gallants that venture faire,
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To steale either horse or Mare,
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Them in that shape he'l beare,
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Through water, earth and mire,
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In wet and dirty case they see,
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What cunning, etc.
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Sometimes to them he appeares,
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A fat Weather, which he that beares,
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Were as good to loose his eares,
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For with tormenting feares,
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The burthens vanist then they see,
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What cunning, etc.
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Sometimes he subtly jeeres,
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Night-walking wastcoateeres,
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When like a man he appeares,
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And them to the Constable beares,
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Then in Bride-well they feele and see,
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What cunning, etc.
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Thus Robin and the rest,
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Not needfull to be exprest,
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(In humane feature drest)
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Play many a merry jest;
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And Theeves upon the Gallowes see,
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What cunning, etc.
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For when they have lost the game,
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Then thus they doe exclaime,
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The Devill ought me a shame,
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And now he has paid the same;
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All such as these with shame shall see,
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What cunning, etc.
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These things and more beside,
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Might here be specifi'd,
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But let the case be try'd,
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Our Pen-man hath not ly'd,
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For mortals by experience see,
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What cuning, merry, mad blades we be.
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