A _Boy_ and a _Thief_.
A _Thief_ came to a _Boy_, that was Blubbering by the Side of a Well, and
Ask’d him what he cry’d for. Why, says he, the String’s Broke here, and
I’ve dropt a Silver Cup into the Well. The Fellow presently Strips, and
down he goes to search for’t. After a while, he comes up again, with his
Labour for his Pains, and the Roguy Boy, in the Mean time, was run away
with his Cloaths.
The MORAL.
_Some Thieves are Ripe for the Gallows sooner than Others._