The English Rogue: Continued in the Life of Meriton Latroon, and Other Extravagants: The Fourth PartHead, Richard
General
The English Rogue: Continued in the Life of Meriton Latroon, and Other Extravagants: The Fourth Part
Head, Richard
Rogues and vagabonds -- England -- Fiction
He had an excellent faculty in telling a doleful story, and would Limn
the horrour of Ship-wrack so to the Life, that the womens eyes about him
dropt as fast as Water out of a Cullender; after this fell a showre of
two pences, single pence, half pence, _&c._ By this subtlety he never
wanted Mony, Victuals, strong Drink, nor good Lodging. And by the help
of a good Memory as I am informed he travailed in and about _England_,
begging in this manner, nine years, and never came in to a Town twice.
* * * * *
Our poor Captain the Son of this maunding Seaman, (that never saw the
Ocean, and therefore could hardly be otherwise Ship-wract, than against
a Whipping-post, or the Gallows) had another Spirit, whose Soul had
neither communication with, nor relation to the meanness of his Fathers;
for from his Childhood he begg’d as the Orphan of a wealthy Merchant,
whose Estate was embezel’d by the avarice of his Guardian, and since
lavishly spent by the profuse prodigality of his Son, since dead. That
now having neither Parents nor Friends left living, he was exposed to
this miserable way of craving the benevolence of the charitable. He made
a shift to live after this manner till he was fifteen years of Age; but
the People noting him to be a lusty Lad, threatned if he would not work,
to send him to _Bridewel_; that word so startled him, that he was
absolutely frighted out of that begging humour. Hearing at that instant
the Drums beat for Voluntiers in some forreign expedition, he listed
himself, and instead of Advance Mony, had Shoos, Stockins, Hat, and
Coat, Sword and Belt, with what else was requisite for a Soldier. And
now he shewed clearly what blood he had in him, and that his Mother had
the greatest share in his Generation. For when she was in her Ale, (as
she often would be) she never gloried nor boasted of any thing more,
then that her Husband was a Soldier at _Tilbury_ Camp, and that losing
his Thumb by firing his own Musquet, her Majesty gave him a Pension of a
maimed Soldier, that if he begg’d after-wards, it was no disgrace, being
so miserably disenabled from working.
* * * * *
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