Epigram 33: Light fingerd Francis begging in the Iayle

Light fingerd Francis begging in the Iayle,
Did chance to see a friend of his passe by,
Thinking his lamentations would pre uaile,
And that some coyne would from his bounty fly.
Those antient friends, one thrall, and tother free,
One hungry, lowsy, ragged, and forlorne:
The tother fat with prodigallity,
Makes him this answere mixt with pride and scorne,
What Franck (quoth he) art there for Ale and Cake?
Why how the Deuill comes this luckles crosse?
Faith Sir (quoth Franck) your Mastership mistakes,
For I am heere for stealing of a Horse.
Troth I mistooke indeed, and so didst thou,
For at this time I haue no mony now.