The ritche that at his table feasts
With choyse of dayntyes, sundry guests,
In all his plenty can but fill
One belly; so the poore can still
With cheese and onions and disguest[137]
As well with them as th'others feast.
The pesent with his homespoon lasse
As many merry howers may passe
As coortiers with there sattin guerles,
Though ritchly dect in gould and pearles;
And, though but pleyne, to purpose wooe,
Nay ofttymes with lesse danger too.
And yet for all this I have one crotchett left in my fate to bate a
new hooke for the gold in the portmanteau.
[_Exit_.
_Actus 4to_.
SCENA 3A.
_Enter Dennis with the Fryar from aboue upon his backe_.
_Den_. Whether a knavishe or a sinneful load,
Or one or bothe I know not; massye it is,
And if no frend will for mee,[138] I'l bee sorry
For myne owne heavinesse. And heare's a place,
Though neather of the secretest nor the best,
To unlade myself of this Iniquity.
When I satt late astryde upon the wall,
To lyft the ladder this waye for descent,
Mee thought the fryar lookt lyke S _George_ a horsback
And I his trusty steede.
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