A beggar through the world am I, From place to place I wander by. Fill up my pilgrim's scrip for me, For Christ's sweet sake and charity.

He who begs timidly courts a refusal. [Lat., Qui timide rogat, Docet negare.]

Beggars must be no choosers.

Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks, but I thank you; and sure, dear friends, my thanks are too dear a halfpenny.

I'd just as soon a beggar as king, And the reason I'll tell you for why; A king cannot swagger, not drink like a beggar, Nor be half so happy as I. . . . . Let the back and side go bare.

To get thine ends, lay bashfulnesse aside; Who fears to aske, doth teach to be deny'd.