The Third and Last Part of Conny-Catching. (1592): With the new deuised knauish arte of Foole-taking

In Short

This work serves as a cautionary guide to the sophisticated swindles plaguing Elizabethan London. By detailing the psychological maneuvers and social impersonations used by "conny-catchers"—or street-level con artists—to manipulate unsuspecting victims, it provides a window into the era's precarious urban life. Rather than a dry record, it presents these crimes as dramatic, often ironic cautionary tales. Its endurance stems from its vivid, journalistic interest in the dark side of social interactions, capturing the tension between the industrious citizen and the parasitic rogue during a period of rapid economic expansion.

The Story

The narrative begins by establishing a historical precedent for civic order, invoking the legacy of Sir Richard Whittington to contrast the ideal of an honest, labor-driven London with the reality of a "hellish crew" of idle, predatory companions. These criminals, organized into specialized roles—carders, dicers, and courtroom hangers-on—operate by exploiting the natural trust and social habits of the public. The text shifts from general warnings to specific, illustrative scams, beginning with a centerpiece tale of a citizen and his maid. A rogue, having carefully studied the maid’s background, approaches her in public, posing as a long-lost cousin from the country. By offering gifts of bacon and cheese, he gains access to her employer’s home. Once inside, he charm-offensively scouts the household's layout and wealth, ultimately setting the stage for a theft that exploits the master’s own hospitality.

The book continues with a series of vignettes documenting the "new devised knavish art of fool-taking." We see a gentleman in Paul’s Church lose his purse after being distracted by a woman posing as a distressed client; a musician at an inn is fleeced by a stranger who borrows his cup under the pretense of fetching rosewater, leaving the musician with the bill; and a young, inexperienced thief attempts to learn the ropes by shadowing a veteran, only to accidentally out-maneuver both his master and his master's female accomplice at a play. The narrative reach extends to the professional classes as well, detailing how a tailor and his client are collectively defrauded by a gang that uses a stolen signet ring to pose as credible messengers, successfully securing expensive fabric and gold lace before framing a third-party broker for the crime.

The arc of these stories rarely favors the victim. The scams are characterized by a cold, calculated efficiency, often ending with the perpetrator vanishing into the city’s bustle while the victim realizes their folly too late. Even when justice is served, as in the case of the broker, it is often orchestrated by another criminal who manipulates the situation for his own fee. The book concludes with these recurring reminders that, in the treacherous environment of London, the primary defense against such "conny-catchers" is a healthy, enduring suspicion of strangers, regardless of how friendly or familiar they might appear.

How It Unfolds

The historical framing The author sets the tone by invoking the strict, orderly legacy of past city leaders like Sir Richard Whittington. This establishes a baseline of civic duty, positioning current criminals as a direct threat to the traditional, honest trades of the citizenry.

The anatomy of a con The narrative transitions to the mechanics of the "cousin" scam, showing how criminals gather intelligence on servants to infiltrate master households. Each step—from the false greeting in the street to the gift-giving and the final heist—is broken down to show the deliberate construction of a false reality.

The escalation of ambition The book moves from simple pickpocketing to more "artificial" feats, such as the elaborate ruse involving the stolen signet ring. This section highlights the shift in criminal sophistication, where the thieves manipulate institutional trust to move large amounts of stolen goods.

The cycle of the "fool-taker" A recurring beat involves the competitive nature of these thieves, who view their work as a craft and even a performance. The narrative often centers on these criminals mocking the "simplicity" of their victims, creating a dark, ironic tension as the reader watches the trap close.

The final reckoning The accounts often end with a post-mortem of the crime, confirming the victim's loss and the thief's escape. Each story serves as a singular, brutal lesson meant to reinforce the need for constant vigilance.

The People

The "conny-catchers" are defined by their cold, calculated ambition. They view their victims not as people, but as "connies"—rabbits to be trapped. They are masters of social mimicry, capable of playing the role of a relative, a servant, or a gentleman with equal ease. Their primary motivation is the pursuit of "purchase," or illicit gain, and they often compete against one another to prove who can execute the most "rare and artificial" feat.

The victims, conversely, are represented by honest, industrious citizens—a tailor, a cutler, a musician, or a householder—whose virtue is their undoing. They want to believe in the social bonds of kinship and professional courtesy. The cutler, for instance, is so proud of his small commission that he loses his entire purse to the very man he just served. The maid, Margaret, is a tragic figure of genuine, naive hospitality, whose affection for her supposed "cousin" leads her to inadvertently compromise her master’s home. These figures rarely emerge with their wealth intact; rather, they are presented as cautionary examples of what happens when one values politeness over caution in a city teeming with those who live by their wits.

In Its Own Voice

"In faithe Maisters these things are prettily done, common sleyghts, expressing no deepe reache of witte, and I woonder men are so simple to bee so beguiled."

This represents the arrogant, competitive mindset of a thief who views crime as an intellectual performance rather than a base act.

"A Cittizens house in London, which hee had diligently eyed & aymed at for a fortnights space, was the place wherein he must performe this exploit."

This highlights the methodical, patient nature of the criminals, who treated the targeting of a home as a long-term project.

"I leave to your iudgement, whether he was now as sorie as he was merrie before."

The author uses this rhetorical flourish to highlight the abrupt transition from the victim's misplaced pride to the sudden, jarring reality of being defrauded.

What It's Really About

The work is a study in the erosion of social trust. It argues that the modern city—specifically London—has become a landscape where traditional markers of honesty, like kinship and professional recommendation, have been commodified and weaponized by criminals. The underlying question is one of survival: in a world where a polite stranger can be a predator, how does one maintain an honest life without becoming a "fool"? The book posits that the city is a theater of deception, where the appearance of goodness is the primary tool of the villain. It is a cynical, yet practical, call for the citizen to abandon their naivety and adopt a defensive, suspicious posture toward the anonymity of urban life.

Why Read It Today

Readers interested in the history of crime, the sociology of early-modern London, or the roots of the true-crime genre will find this an essential, if challenging, artifact. Its value lies in its candid, unvarnished look at the social anxieties of the Elizabethan era. Reading it feels like peering into a dark, frantic, and dangerously interconnected world where the line between a neighbor and a thief is vanishingly thin.

However, prospective readers should be prepared for significant linguistic hurdles. The text uses sixteenth-century English, complete with archaic spellings, slang terms like "nipping the bong," and fluid, run-on sentence structures that demand a patient, attentive reader. The moralizing tone is typical of the period, and the attitudes toward the poor and the "idle" are starkly judgmental by modern standards. Despite these difficulties, the vividness of the character portraits—the swaggering thieves and the genuinely sympathetic, if gullible, victims—remains striking. You will likely walk away from the book with a heightened awareness of the fragility of social norms and an enduring, somewhat dark fascination with the ingenuity that humans will deploy to survive at the expense of others. It is an uncomfortable but deeply revealing look at a city that, in its own way, is not so different from our own.