_People._ And we think ye would we zelie poor volk should thrive. _Resp._ Yea, doubtless, as any like creature alive! _Adul._ What need ye of her good will, towards you, to doubt? _People._ Peace, thou, with zorow! and let me tell my tall owt. _Resp._ Say on, my good People! let me hear your mind. _People._ Bum vai! we ignoram people beeth not zo blind But we passeive there falleth of corn and cattle, Wull, sheep, wood, lead, tin, iron and other metal, And of all things, enough vor good and bad, And as commediens vor us, as e'er we had; And yet, the price of everything is zo dear, As though the ground did bring vorth no such, nowhere. _Resp._ Indeed! I have enough, if it be well ordered; But few folk the better, if I be misordered. _People._ Nay! now you zai zouth; e'en this same way goeth the hare: Ill ordering 'tis hath made both you and we threadbare. _Adul._ What naughty folks were they? can you their names read? _People._ Yea! that I scan; a whole mess of om for a need. There is vorst and vormost Flattery--ill a thee! A slipper, sugar-mouthed whorecop, as can be. He fleareth on you, and beareth us fair in hand; And, therewhile, robbeth both you and we of our land. Then cometh the sour, rough, crabbed child Oppression: He tumbleth whom a lust out of possession. Then is there the third--I scannot member his name-- What call ye this same, fellows!--God give them a shame-- That beeth still climbing up aloft for promidence, And cannot be content with their state! _Adul._ Insolence? _People._ Yea, this same is he, Zoriless! _Resp._ Nay, Insolence! _People._ Well, he'll roil all the roast alone, cha hard it zaid; Or else, make the best of them aghast and afraid. And zuch good men as could, and would, order you well, He is so copped, he will not suffer to mell. If they will not be rold, then hence, out of favour; [Yea, and per]haps corrupt om zore vor their labour! Yet he, and th' other twain work all after the vice Of cha-forget-tone-name, t'other is Covetise. This hungry whorecop hath such a policate wit, That he teacheth them to rake and scrape up each whit. And zo these vowre--but it shall never come out for me-- Volk think will never cease to spoil both you and me. Vor, sometime they face us, and call us peason knaves; And zwareth: God's bones! they will make us all slaves. Therevore, chwas besirance your ladydom to zee, And to give you warning. _Resp._ Hear ye this, Honesty? _People._ Well, and God amend all, and a be zo good a clerk-- _Resp._ Hear ye this, Honesty? _People._ --though tinkers should lack work. _Resp._ I am put in comfort all shall shortly amend-- _Adul._ It is in good way already; else, God defend!