style="font-size:15px;"> Where we left agayne.
Tertius passus.
Instede of coyne and monny,[504]
Some brynge her a conny,
And some a pot with honny,
Some a salt, and some a spone,
Some theyr hose, some theyr shone;
Some ran[505] a good trot
With a skellet or a pot; 250
Some fyll theyr pot full
Of good Lemster woll:
An huswyfe of trust,
Whan she is athrust,
Suche a webbe can spyn,
Her thryft is full thyn.
Some go streyght thyder,
Be it slaty or slyder;
They holde the hye waye,
They care not what men say, 260
Be that as be maye;
Some, lothe to be espyde,
Start[506] in at the backe syde,
Ouer the hedge and pale,
And all for the good ale.
Some renne tyll they swete,
Brynge wyth them malte or whete,
And dame Elynour entrete
To byrle them of the best.
Than cometh an other gest; 270
She swered by the rode of rest,
Her lyppes are so drye,
Without drynke she must dye;
Therefore fyll it by and by,
And haue here a pecke of ry.
Anone cometh another,
As drye as the other,
And wyth her doth brynge
Mele, salte, or other thynge,
Her haruest[507] gyrdle, her weddynge rynge, 280
To pay for her scot
As cometh to her lot.
Som bryngeth her husbandes hood,
Because the ale is good;
Another brought her his cap
To offer to the ale tap,
Wyth flaxe and wyth towe;
And some brought sowre dowe;
Wyth, Hey, and wyth, howe,
Syt we downe a rowe, 290
And drynke tyll we blowe,
And pype tyrly tyrlowe!
Some layde to pledge
Theyr hatchet and theyr wedge,
Theyr hekell and theyr rele,
Theyr rocke, theyr spynnyng whele;
And some went so narrowe,
They layde to pledge theyr wharrowe,
Theyr rybskyn and theyr spyndell,
Theyr nedell and theyr thymbell: 300
Here was scant thryft
Whan they made suche shyft.
Theyr thrust was so great,
They asked neuer for mete,
But drynke, styll drynke,
And let the cat wynke,
Let vs washe our gommes
From the drye crommes.
Quartus passus.
Some for very nede
Layde[508] downe a skeyne of threde, 310
And some a skeyne of yarne;
Some brought[509] from the barne
Both benes and pease;
Small chaffer doth ease
Sometyme, now and than:
Another there was that ran
With a good brasse pan;
Her colour was full wan;
She ran in all the hast
Vnbrased and vnlast; 320
Tawny, swart, and sallowe,[510]
Lyke a cake of tallowe;
I swere by all hallow,
It was a stale[511] to take
The deuyll in a brake.
And than came haltyng Jone,
And brought a gambone
Of bakon that was resty:
But, Lorde, as she was testy,
Angry as a waspy! 330
She began to yane and gaspy,
And bad Elynour go bet,
And fyll in good met;[512]
