Classic Poem

I sing no harm good sooth to any wight,
To lord or fool, cuckold, beggar or knight,
To peace-teaching lawyer, proctor, or brave
Reformed or reduced captain, knave,
Officer, juggler, or justice of peace,
Juror or judge; I touch no fat sow's grease,
I am no libeller, nor will be any,
But (like a true man) say there are too many.
I fear not ore tenus ; for my tale,
Nor Count nor counsellor will red or pale.
A citizen and his wife the other day
Both riding on one horse, upon the way
I overtook, the wench a pretty peat,
And (by her eye) well fitting for the feat.
I saw the lecherous citizen turn back
His head, and on his wife's lip steal a smack,
Whence apprehending that the man was kind,
Riding before, to kiss his wife behind,
To get acquaintance with him I began
To sort discourse fit for so fine a man:
I asked the number of the Plaguy Bill,
Asked if the Custom Farmers held out still,
Of the Virginian plot, and whether Ward
The traffic of the Midland seas had marred,
Whether the Britain Bourse did fill apace,
And likely were to give th' Exchange disgrace;
Of new-built Aldgate, and the Moorfield crosses,
Of store of bankrupts, and poor merchants' losses
I urged him to speak; But he (as mute
As an old courtier worn to his last suit)
Replied with only yeas and nays; at last
(To fit his element) my theme I cast
On tradesmen's gains; that set his tongue a-going:
Alas, good sir (quoth he), " There is no doing
In Court nor City now"; she smiled and I,
And (in my conscience) both gave him the lie
In one met thought: but he went on apace,
And at the present time with such a face
He railed, as frayed me; for he gave no praise,
To any but my Lord of Essex' days;
Called those the age of action; " true" (quoth he)
" There's now as great an itch of bravery,
And heat of taking up, but cold lay down,
For, put to push of pay, away they run;
Our only City trades of hope now are
Bawd, tavern-keeper, whore and scrivener;
The much of privileged kingsmen, and the store
Of fresh protections make the rest all poor;
In the first state of their creation,
Though many stoutly stand, yet proves not one
A righteous paymaster." Thus ran he on
In a continued rage: so void of reason
Seemed his harsh talk, I sweat for fear of treason.
And (troth) how could I less? when in the prayer
For the protection of the wise Lord Mayor,
And his wise brethren's worships, when one pray'th,
He swore that none could say Amen with faith.
To get him off from what I glowed to hear,
(In happy time) an angel did appear,
The bright sign of a loved and well-tried inn,
Where many citizens with their wives have been
Well used and often; here I prayed him stay,
To take some due refreshment by the way.
Look how he looked that hid the gold (his hope)
And at return found nothing but a rope,
So he on me, refused and made away,
Though willing she pleaded a weary day:
I found my miss, shook hands, yet prayed him tell
(To hold acquaintance still) where he did dwell;
He barely named the street, promised the wine.
But his kind wife gave me the very sign.