him, and the poore man returned again to the place where he had bought them. What became of him afterward I cannot tell: only thus much I know, that he was deceived by those two crafty fellows of one of his hogs. But they immediately met one the other again, and sold the hog for Money, and rejoyced that they fared so well (not knowing how to have otherwise sustained their wants). _Of Marcus._ When Marcus fail'd a borrowed sum to pay, [5.] Unto his friend at the appointed day: 'Twere superstition for a man he sayes, To be a strict observer of set dayes. The industrious Smith wherin is showne, [11.] How plain dealing is overthrown, That let a man do the best that he may, An idle huswife will work his decay, Yet art is no burthen; tho ill we may speed, Our labour will help us in time of our need. To the Tune of _Young Man remember delights are but vain_. There was a poor Smith liv'd in a poor town, That had a loving wife bonny and brown, And though he were very discreet and wise, Yet he would do nothing without her advice; His stock it grew low, full well did he know, He told his wife what he intended to do, Quoth he, sweet wife, if I can prevail, I will shoo horses, and thou shalt sell Ale. I see by my labour but little I thrive, And that against the stream I do strive By selling of Ale some money is got, If every man honestly pay for his pot: By this we may keep the wolf from the door, And live in good fashion though now we live poor, If we have good custom, we shall have quick sale, So may we live bravely by selling of Ale. Kind husband, quoth she, let be as you said, It is the best motion that ever you made, A Stan[F. 15] of good Ale, let me have in, A dozen of good white bread in my Bin; Tobacco likewise we must not forget, Men will call for it when malt's above wheat. When once it is known, then ore hill and dale, Men will come flocking to taste of our Ale. [Illustration] They sent for a wench, her name it was _Besse_, And her they hired to welcome their guesse,[F. 16] They took in good Ale, and many things mo, The Smith had got him two strings to his bow: Good fellows came in, and began for to rore, The Smith he was never so troubled before, But quoth the good wife, sweet hart do not rayl, These things must be, if we sell Ale. The Smith went to his work every day, But still one or other would call him away, For now he had got him the name of an Host, It cost him many a Pot and a Toste. Beside much precious time he now lost, And thus the poor Smith was every day crost, But quoth the good wife, sweet hart do not rayl These things must be if we sell Ale.