A Boy, betimes in knavery tried,
Was seated by a draw-well side.
Seeing a noted Robber nigh,
He wept with many a sob and sigh.
"What now my lad!" the Robber cries;
"Ah, Sir," the little rogue replies,
"A silver cup I came to fill,
By chance has fall'n into the well." —
"Come," says the Thief, "thy sorrows dry;
To find the tankard we will try."
Undress'd, he in the well descends;
The Pickpocket had now his ends,
And when the Thief came up again
For Lad and clothes he look'd in vain.
When rogues and thieves each other spoil,
The honest folk may fairly smile.
Source: Boothby - Avianus 5.
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