The Thief, when he doth steal, thinks he doth gain;
Yet then the greatest loss he Joth sustain.
Come, Thief, tell me thy gains, but do not falter;
When summ'd, what comes it to more than the halter?

Perhaps thou'lt say, the halter I defy ;
So thou may'st say, yet by the halter die.
Thou'lt say, then there's an end : no, pr'ithee, hold ;
He was no friend of thine that thee so told.

Hear thou the word of God ; that will thee tell, Without repentarce, Thieves must go to hell. But should it be as thy false prophet says, Yet nought but loss doth come by thievish ways.

All honest men will flee thy company, Thou livest a rogue, and so a roglie will die. Innocent boldness thou hast none at all, Thy inward thoughts do thee a villain call.

Sometimes, when thou ly'st warmly in thy bed, Thou art like one unto the gallows led. Fear, as a Constable, breaks in upon thee, Thou art as if the town was up to stone thee.

If hogs do grunt, or silly rats do rustle, Thou art in consternation; think'st a bustle By men about the door is made to take thee; And all because good conscience doth forsake thee.

Thy case is so deplorable and bad,
Thou shunn'st to think on'tlest thou shouldst be mad:
Thou art beset with mischiefs ev'ry way,
The gallows groaneth for thee ev'ry day.

Wherefore, I pr'ithee, thief, thy theft forbear;
Consult thy safety; pr’ithee have a care.
If once thy head be got within the noose,
"Twill be too late a longer life to choose.

As to the penitent thou readest of,
What's that to them who at repentance scoff?

Nor is that grace at thy command or power,
That ihou shouldst put it off till the last hour.

I pr'ithee Thief, think on't, and turn betime:
Few go to life who do the gallows climb.


My little Bird, how canst thou sit,

And sing amidst so many thorus !
Let me but hold upon thee get,

My love with honour thee adorns. Thou art at present little worth ;

Five farthings none will give for thee: But, pr’ithee little bird, come forth,

Thou of more value art to me. Tis true, it is sun-shine to-day,

To-morrow birds will have a storm ; My pretty one, come thou away,

My bosom then shall keep tbee warm. Thou subject art to cold o'nights,

When darkness is thy covering; At day thy danger's great by kites,

How canst thou then sit there and sing. Thy food is scarce and scanty too,

'Tis worms and trash which thou dost eat, Thy present state 1 pity do,

Come, i'll provide thee better meat. I'll feed thee with white bread and milk,

Aud sugar-plums if thou them crave; I'll cover thee with finest silk,

That from the cold I may thee save. My father's palace shall be thive;

Yea, in it ihon shalı sit and sing : My little Bird, if thou'lt be mine,

The whole year round shall be thy spring. --|

I'll teach thee all the notes at court;

Unthought of music thou shalt play: And all that thither do resort

Shall praise thee for it ev'ry day. I'll keep thee safe from cat and cur;

No manner o'harm shall come to thee: Yea, I will be thy succourer,

My bosom shall thy cabiu be. But lo, behold, the Bird is gone!

These charmings would not make her yield : The Child's left at the bush alone,

The Bird flies yonder o'er the field.


This Child, of Christ an emblem is,
The Bird to Sinners I compare :
The thorns are like those sins of his,

Which do surround him ev'ry where.
Her songs, her food, and sun-shine day,

Are emblems of those foolish toys,
Which to destruction lead the way,

The fruit of worldly empty joys.
The arguments this Child doth choose,

To draw to him a Bird thus wild,
Shews Christ familiar speech doth use,

To make him to be reconciled. The Bird in that she takes her wing,

To speed her from him after all, Shews us vain Man loves any thing

Much better than the heavenly call.


This Moses was a fair and comely man ;
His wife a swarthy Æthiopian :

Nor did his milk-white bosom change her skin,
She came out thence as black as she went in.

Now Moses was a type of Moses' Law,
His Wife likewise of one that never saw
Another way unto eternal life;
There's myst’ry then in Moses and his Wife.

The law is very holy, just, and good;
And to it is espoused all flesh and blood;
But yet the Law its goodness can't bestow

any that are wedded thereunto.
Therefore, as Moses' Wife came swarthy in,
And went out from him without change of skin ;
So be that dotb the Law for life adore,
Shall yet by it be left a black-a-more.

This homely Bush doth to mine eyes expose
A very fair yea, comely ruddy Rose.

This Rose doth always bow its head to me,
Saying, Come, pluck me, I thy Rose will be:
Yet offer I to gather Rose or bud,
Ten to one but the bush will have my blood.

This looks like a trepan, or a decoy,
To offer, and yet suap who would enjoy;
Yea, the more eager on't, the more in danger,
Be he the inaster of it, or a stranger.

Bush, why dost bear a rose, if none must have it;
Why dost expose it, yet claw those that crave it;
Art become freakish! dost the wauton play,
Or doth thy testy humour tend this way?


This Rose God's Son is with his ruddy looks;
But what's the Bush, whose pricks, like ténter-hooks,
Do scratch and claw the finest lady's hands,
Or rend her clothes, if she too near it stands ?

This Bush an emblem is of Adam's race,
Of which Christ came, when He His Father's


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Commended to us in His crimson blood,
While He in sinners' stead and nature stood.

Thus Adam's race did bear this dainty Rose,
And doth the same to Adam's race expose:
But those of Adams race which at it catch,
Them will the race of Adam claw and scratch.


What, hast thou run thy race? art going down?
Why, as one angry, dost thou on us frown?
Why wrap thy head with clouds, and hide thy face,
As threat'ning to withdraw from us thy grace ?
O leave us not! When once thou bidest thy head,
Our horizon with darkness will be spread.
Tell, wbo bath thee offended ; turn again :
Alas! too late, intreaties are in vain !

The Gospel here has had a summer's day,
But in its sun-shine we, like fools did play;
Or else fall out, and with each other wrangle,
And did, instead of work, not much but jangle.

And if our Sun seems angry, hides his face,
Shall it go down, shall night possess this place?
Let not the voice of night-birds us afflict,
And of our mispent summer us convict.

The Frog by nature is both damp and cold,
Her mouth is large, her belly much will hold ;
She sits somewhat ascending, loves to be
Croaking in gardens, though unpleasantly.

The Hypocrite is like unto this Frog ;
As like as is the puppy to the dog.
He is of nature cold, his mouth is wide,
To prate, and at true goodness to deride.
And though the world is that which has his love,
He mounts his head, as if he lived above.

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