When silent nighte, did sceptor take in hande,
And dim'de the daie, with shade of mantle blacke,
What time the theeves, in privie corners stande,
And have noe dowte, to robbe for what they lacke:
A greedie theefe, in shambles broke a shoppe,
And fil'de a sacke, with fleshe up to the toppe.
Which done, with speede he lifted up the sacke,
And bothe the endes, abowt his necke he knittes,
And ranne awaie, with burden on his backe
Till afterwardes, as hee at alehowse sittes:
The heavie loade, did weye so harde behinde,
That whiles he slept, the weighte did stoppe his winde.
Which truelie showes, to them that doe offende,
Althowghe a while, they scape theire just desertes,
Yet punishment, dothe at theire backes attende,
And plagues them hoame, when they have meriest hartes:
And thoughe longe time, they doe escape the pikes,
Yet soone, or late, the Lorde in justice strikes.