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Which I hane 48 done with as devout a cheere
As he that rounds Poule's-pillers in the eare 49,
Or bends his ham downe in the naked queare.
'Twas ever said, Frontine, and ever seene,
That golden clearkes but wooden lawyers bene.
Could ever wise man wish, in good estate,
The use of all things indiscriminate?
Who wots not yet how well this did beseeme
The learned maister of the Academe?
Plato is dead, and dead is his devise,
Which some thought witty, none thought ever wise :
Yet, certes, Mæcha is a Platonist
To all, they say, save whoso do not list;
Because her husband, a farre-trafiqu'd man,
Is a profest Peripatecian.
And so our grandsires were in ages past,
That let their lands lye all so widely wast,
That nothing was in pale or hedge ypent so
Within some province, or whole shire's extent.
As Nature inade the earth, so did it lye,
Save for the furrows of their husbandry;
When as the neighbour lands so couched layne,
That all bore show of one fayre champian :
Some head-lesse crosse they digged on their lea,
Or rol'd some marked meare-stones in the way.
Poore simple men ! for what mought that avayle,
That my field might not fill my neighbour's payle;
More than a pilled sticke can stand in stead,
To barre Cynedo from his neighbour's bed; o
More than the thred-bare client's poverty
Debarres th' atturney of his wonted fee?
If they were thriftlesse, mote not we amend,
And with more care our dangered fields defend ?
Ech man can gard what thing he deemeth deere,
As fearefull marchants doe their female heyre:
Which, were it not for promise of their wealth,
Need not be stalled up for feare of stelth;
Would rather sticke upon the belman's cries,
Tho' proferd for a branded Indian's price.
Then rayse we muddy bul-warkes on our bankes,
Beset around with treble quick-set rankes;
Or, if those walls be over weake a ward,
The squared bricke may be a better gard.
4 — hane-for have.
4? As he that rounds Poulc's-pillars in the earE. The Oxford Editor reads yeare, without authority. Bụt is not that the meaning? 50 ypent-pent, or confined.
- mears-stone-or meer-stone, a stone to mark the boundary.
Go to, my thrifty yeoman, and upreare
A brazen wall to shend thy land from feare sa
Do so; and I shall praise thee all the wbile,
So be thou stake not up the common stile ;
So be thou hedge in nought but what's thine owne;
So be thou pay what tithes thy neighbours done: -
So be thou let not lye in fallow'd plaine
That, which was wont yeelde usurie of graine.
But, when I see thy pitched stakes do stand
On thy incroched peece of common land,
Whiles thou discommonest thy neighbour's keyne,
And warn'st that none feed on thy field save thine ;
Brag no more, Scrobius, of thy mudded bankes,
Nor thy deep ditches, nor three quickset rankes.
Oh happy daies of olde Deucalion,
When one was land-lord of the world alone!
But, now, whose coler would not rise to yeeld
A pesant halfe-stakes of his new-mowne field,
Whiles yet he may not for the treble price
Buy out the remnant of his royalties ?
Go on and thrive, my pety tyrant's pride :
Seorne thou to live, if others live beside;
And trace proud Castile that aspires to be
In his old age a young fift monarchie:
Or the red hat, that tries 53 the lucklesse mayne,
For welthy Thames to change his lowly Rhene.
Possunt, quia posse videntur.
VILLIUS, the welthy farmer, left his heire
Twise twenty sterling pounds to spend by yeare.
The neighbours praysen Villio's hide-bound sonne,
And say it was a goodly portion :
Not knowing how some marchants dowre can rise,
By Sundaie's tale s4 to fifty Centuries;
Or to weigh downe a leaden bride with golde,
Worth all that Matho bought, or Pontice sold.
52 A brazen wall to shend thy land from feare. To shend generally signifies, in the old writers, to ruin, disgrace, blame, &c. The meaning of the line may be, that a brazen wall, raised frons or on account of his fear, would disgrace his land.
"- tries—is improperly cries in the later editions.
54 By Sundaie's tale – Probably, by means of employing his Sundays.
But whiles ten pound goes to his wive's new gowne,
Nor litle lesse can serve to sute his owne;
Whiles one peece payes her idle wayting man,
Or buyes a hoode, or silver-handled fanne,
Or hires a Friezeland trotter, half yarde deepe,
To drag his tumbrell through the staring Cheape;
Or whiles he rideth with two liveries,
And's treble rated at the subsidies;
One end a kennell keeps of thriftlesse hounds;
What thinke you rests of all my younker's pounds
To diet him, or deale out at bis doore,
To cofer up, or stocke his wasting store?
If then I reckon'd right, it should appeare
That fourtie pounds serve not the farmer's heyre.