Classic Poem

By birth I'm a slave, yet can give you a crown,
I dispose of all honours, myself having none;
I'm obliged by just maxims to govern my life,
Yet I hang my own master, and lie with his wife.
When men are a-gaming, I cunningly sneak,
And their cudgels and shovels away from them take.
Fair maidens and ladies I by the hand get,
And pick off their diamonds, tho' ne'er so well set.
For when I have comrades we rob in whole bands,
Then presently take off your lands from your hands.
But, this fury once over, I've such winning arts,
That you love me much more than you do your own hearts.