»y  ploughman  !  were  thy  weal  well  known  :
»y  all  estates,  except  his  own  !
Irunken  rh^iner  thinks  his  time  well  spent,
an  live  to  see  his  name  in  print,
¥hen  he  is  once  fleshed  to  the  press,
ees  his  hansell  have  such  fair  success,
0  the  wheel  y  and  sung  unto  the  pail,
ds  forth  thraves  of  ballads  to  the  sail,
en  can  rest,  but  volumes  up  bodged  rhymes,
e  his  name  talked  of  in  future  times,
ain-sick  youth,  that  feeds  his  tickled  ear
weet-sauced  lies  of  some  false  traveller,
hath  the  Spanisli  Decades  read  awhile,
^tstone  leasings  of  old  Mandeville,


Now  with  discourses  breaks  his  midnight  sleep

Of  his  adventures  through  the  Indian  deep.
Of  all  their  massy  heaps  of  golden  mine.
Or  of  the  antique  tombs  of  Palestine,

Or  of  Damascus'  magic  wall  of  glass.
Of  Solomon  his  sweating  piles  of  brass.
Of  the  bird  rue  that  bears  an  elephant,

Of  mermaids  that  the  southern  seas  do  haunt.
Of  headless  men,  of  savage  cannibals.
The  fashions  of  their  lives  and  govemals  ;

What  monstrous  cities  there  erected  be,

Cairo,  or  the  city  of  the  Trinity  ;

Now  are  they  dunghill  cocks  that  have  not  seen

The  bordering    Alps,  or  else  the   neighbour

Rhine:
And  now  he  plies  the  news-full  Grasshopper,
Of  voyages  and  ventures  to  inquire.
His  land  mortgaged,  he  sea-beat  in  the  way.
Wishes  for  home  a  thousand  sighs  a  day  ;
And  now  he  deems  his  home-bred  fare  as  leaf
As  his  parch'd  biscuit,  or  his  barrell'd  beef.
