_Sir,_ said he, _I was formerly an Apprentice in_ London, _and by reason of my Masters covetous and ill nature and severity from him, I had not served him two years e’re I was upon the ramble, (a term of Art frequently used amongst us;) my Parents with some charge and much intreaty sawdred up this first crack; but this sore was not so well cured, but by reason of the inward corruption it broke out again, and now was the Malady worse than ever, for my Master would not receive me on any terms, notwithstanding the various perswasions of my friends for that purpose. My Relations seeing this, and being throughly perplex’t exercised all their passions on me, and instead of reducing me, took a course to ruine and destroy me: for they seemingly cast me out of all favour, which I judged to be real, and having no other dependance than my Wits (my poverty having frighted all my former friends from coming near me,) I resolved for a sustenance to make what use I could of them._ _As long as my money lasted, I frequented all places for Gaming exercises, and now and then some Bawdy-houses, in which I had goten a large acquaintance; but having spent all I had, I could get no credit among them, only in one house, where they had so much credulity to believe my Lies to be infallible Truths, and that I should receive in a little time those several Sums were due to me abroad, and would have the honesty to pay my large account. Money not coming as they expected, laid an Action on my back, and threw me into Goal, where I suffered more than tongue can utter; but I shall not disclose the name of this Gaoler, since I shall give you an account of some lines I wrote on him whilst I was his Prisoner, which were these_; _This Gaoler sure the Devil gave him birth, For no such Fury hath his seat on Earth: A Cannibal which eats the Flesh of Men, And being gorged, spews than up again. A Monster that the old World never knew, Of late produc’d by a litigious crew, Spawn of a Syren and Leviathan: Part Fish, part Fowl, part Devil, and part Man. He Swallows down the poor, as Crows do Frogs, And makes no more of Men, than Men of Dogs. The Pris’ner ends his days in toil and sweat, To fill the Cabbins of his Cabbinet. This Cash being ravisht from his reaking brow, Will be all spent the Devil knows not how. His Celler’s Hell, he lives by other’s sin, And cares not who doth loose so he may win. His Beds are dearer than a Bawdy-house, There you may have a Whore, but here a Louse. This is that Hell-hound for to sum up all, Who is both Monster, Devil, and Canniball._