the following song for the fraternity to sing at their leizure:
All you that jovial Tinkers are,
Come listen unto me:
I dream'd a dream that was so rare,
That none to it I can compare,
No Tinker such did see.
I thought I was a King indeed,
Attired gay and fine;
In a stately palace I did tread,
Was to a princely banquet led,
And had good cheer of wine.
But soon I found me in a ditch,
That did no comfort lend;
This shews a Tinker, though he itch
To be a Prince, or to grow rich,
Must still old kettles mend.
CHAP. II.
THIS merry Courtier riding one day a hunting, met a country-woman in a narrow lane, with a basket on her head, which she carried as if it was heavy, and had almost tired her. He then asked her what she had in it? She told him, butter, and that she was carrying it three miles further to market. O poor woman, said he, I pity thee, what will thou sell it for?-So much, Sir, said she.-Upon which he gave her the money, and taking the butter, clapt
