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Yet now he swore by that sweete crosse he kist,
(That siluer crosse, where hee had sacrific'd
His coueting soule, by his desires owne doome,
Daily to die the diuels martyrdome,)
His angels were all flowne vp to their sky,
And had forsooke his naked tresurie ;
Farewell Astræa and her weights of gold,

Vntill his lingring calends once be told;

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Nought left behinde but wax and parchment scroles, 55 Like Lucians dreame that siluer turn'd to coles. Shouldst thou him credit, that nould credit thee? Yes, and maiest sweare he swore the verity;

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The ding-thrift heire, his shift-got summe mispent,
Comes drouping like a pennylesse penitent,
And beats his faint fist on Tocullios doore,
It lost the last, and now must call for more.
Now hath the spider caught a wandring flie,
And drags her captiue at her cruell thie ;
Soone is his arrand red in his pale face,
Which beares dumbe characters of euery case;
So Cyneds dusky cheeke and fiery eye,

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And hayre-les brow, tels where he last did lye;
So Matho doth bewray his guilty thought,
While his pale face doth say, his cause is nought. 70
Seest thou the wary angler trayle along

His feeble line, soone as some pike too strong
Hath swallowed the bate that scornes the shore,
Yet now nearehand cannot resist no more :

So lyeth he aloofe in smooth pretence,

To hide his rough intended violence;

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As he that vnder name of Christmas cheere,
Can starue his tenants all th'ensuing yeare.
Paper and wax (God wot) a weake repay,

For such deepe debts, and downcast summs as they, 80
Write, seale, deliuer, take, go, spend and speede,
And yet full heardly could his present need
Part with such summe; for but as yester-late
Did Furnus offer pen-worths at easie rate,

For small disbursment; he the bankes hath broke, 85
And needs mote now some further playne orelook;
Yet ere he goe
faine would he be releast,
Hy you, ye rauens, hy you to the feast.
Prouided that thy lands are left entyre,
To be redeem'd or ere thy day expire;
Then shalt thou teare those idle paper-bonds,
That thus had fettered thy pawned lands.

Ah, foole! for sooner shalt thou sell the rest,
Then stake ought for thy former interest;

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When it shall grind thy grating gall for shame, 95 To see the lands that beare thy grandsires name, Become a dunghill peasants sommer-hall,

Or lonely Hermits cage inhospitall;

A pining gourmand, an imperious slaue,

An hors-leech, barren womb, and gaping graue, 100 A legall thiefe, a bloud-lesse murtherer,

A feind incarnate, a false vsurer ;

Albee such mayne extort scornes to be pent

In the clay wals of thatched tenement :
For certes no man of a low degree,
May bid two ghestes, or gout, or vsurie,

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Vnlesse some base hedge-creeping Collybist
Scatters his refuse scraps on whom he list,
For Easter-gloues, or for a shroftide hen,
Which bought to giue, he takes to sell agen.
I doe not meane some glozing merchants feate,
That laugheth at the cozened worlds deceipt,
When as an hundred stocks lie in his fist,
He leaks and sinkes, and breaketh when he list.
But Nummius eas'd the needy gallants care,
With a base bargaine of his blowen ware,
Of fusted hoppes now lost for lacke of sayle,
Or mo'ld browne-paper that could nought auaile ;
Or what he cannot vtter otherwise,

May pleasure Fridoline for treble price;
Whiles his false broker lyeth in the wind,

And for a present chapman is assign'd,

The cut-throte wretch for their compacted gaine,
Buyes all for but one quarter of the mayne ;

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Whiles if he chance to breake his deare-bought day, 125 And forfait for default of due repay

His late intangled lands; then, Fridoline,

Buy thee a wallet, and go beg or pine;

If Mammon selfe should euer liue with men,
Mammon himselfe shal be a citizen.

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SAT. VI.

QUID PLACET ERGO?

not how the world's degenerate, en or know, or like not their estate; n the Gades vp to the easterne morne, but holds his natiue state forlorne. omely striplings wish it were their chance, 5 is distaffe to exchange their lance, are curl'd periwigs, and chalke their face, I are poring on their pocket-glasse; ith pinn'd ruffes, and fans, and partlet strips, skes, and verdingales about their hips; ad on corked stilts a prisoners pace, ke their napkin for their spitting-place, pe their wast within a narrow span. enis, that would'st wish to be a man ; mannish hus-wiues like their refuse state, 15 ke a drudge of their vxorius mate,

e a cot-queene freezeth at the rocke,

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his breach't dame doth man the forren stock. a shame to see ech homely groome

hed in an idle charriot-roome,

ere not meete some pannell to bestride, led to a galled hackneys hide?

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ck-worme will be rich with lawlesse gaine, e smother vp mowes of seuen yeares graine, g'd himself when corne grows cheap again; 25

Altho he buy whole haruests in the spring,
And foyst in false strikes to the measuring;
Altho his shop be muffled from the light
Like a day-dungeon, or Cimmerian night;
Nor full nor fasting can the carle take rest,
Whiles his George-Nobles rusten in his chest,
He sleeps but once and dreames of burglarie,
And wakes and castes about his frighted eye,
And gropes for theeues in euery darker shade,
And if a mouse but stirre he cals for ayde.
The sturdie plough-man doth the soldier see
All scarfed with pide colours to the knee,
Whom Indian pillage hath made fortunate,
And now he gins to loath his former state;
Now doth he inly scorne his Kendall-greene,
And his patch't cockers now dispised beene;
Nor list he now go whistling to the carre,
But sels his teeme and fetleth to the warre.

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O warre! to them that neuer tryde thee, sweete ! When his dead mate fals groueling at his feete, And angry bullets whistlen at his eare,

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And his dim eyes see nought but death and drere:
Oh happy plough-man! were thy weale well known;
Oh, happy all estates except his owne !
Some dronken rimer thinks his time well spent,
If he can liue to see his name in print;
Who when he is once fleshed to the presse,
And sees his handsell haue such fayre successe,
Sung to the wheele, and sung vnto the payle,
He sends forth thraues of ballads to the sale;

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