_What _Gusman_, _Buscon_, _Francion_, _Rablais_ writ, I once applauded for most excellent wit: But reading _Thee_, and thy rich Fancies store, I now condemne, what I admir’d before. Henceforth _Translations_ pack away, be gone; No _Rogue_ so well writ, as our _English_ one._ M. Y. [Illustration] To his respected Friend, the Author. _Could I but reach _Bayes_ from _Apollo’s Tree_, I’d make a _Wreath_ to _Crown_ thy _Work_ and _Thee_; Which yet is needless, now I think upon’t; Thy own _great Pen_ deservedly hath don’t. Of all who write of _Thee_, this is my Vogue, _None ere writ better of, and is less Rogue_._ W. W. [Illustration] On his deserving friend the Author. __Fletcher_ the _King_ of _Poets_ of his age, In all his writings throughout every page Made it his chiefest business to describe The various humours of the _canting-Tribe_: His _Beggars-bush_, and other of his _Playes_ Did gain to him (deservedly) the _Bayes_. _Nature_ and _Art_ in _him_ were both conjoyn’d; None could ere say that his Wit was purloyn’d: Neither is _thine_: he did all fancies fill, From _Kings_ and _Queens_, unto the _Maid o’ th’ Mill_; And so canst _thou_, for thou hast here display’d The Vices of each _Sex_, and every _Trade_. Wherefore what he in his time wore, do _thou_ Put on, a _Wreath_ of _Bays_ t’ adorne thy _brow_._ F. K. [Illustration] TO THE READER, In stead of the _ERRATA_. _This _Rogue_ hath had his faults, the Printers too; All men whilst here do _erre_; and so may _you_._ [Illustration] [Illustration] [Illustration] THE ENGLISH ROGUE, Describ’d in the Life of a _Witty Extravagant_. CHAP. I. _What his Parents were. The place of his own Nativity. His miraculous Escape from the hands of Irish Rebels. His brother being at that very time murdered by the merciless hands of those bloody Butchers._