But multitudes that liv'd on them, Were daily forc'd to do the same. 340 In vain to other trades they'd fly; All were o'er-stock'd accordingly. The price of land and houses falls; Mirac'lous palaces, whose walls, Like those of Thebes, were rais'd by play, 345 Are to be let; while the once gay, Well-seated household gods would be More pleas'd to expire in flames, than see The mean inscription on the door Smile at the lofty ones they bore. 350 The building trade is quite destroy'd, Artificers are not employ'd; No limner for his art is fam'd, Stone-cutters, carvers are not nam'd. Those, that remain'd, grown temp'rate, strive, 355 Not how to spend, but how to live; And, when they paid their tavern score, Resolv'd to enter it no more: No vintner's jilt in all the hive Could wear now cloth of gold, and thrive; 360 Nor Torcol such vast sums advance, For Burgundy and Ortolans; The courtier's gone that with his miss Supp'd at his house on Christmas peas; Spending as much in two hours stay, 365 As keeps a troop of horse a day. The haughty Chloe, to live great, Had made her husband rob the state: But now she sells her furniture, Which th' Indies had been ransack'd for; 370 Contracts the expensive bill of fare, And wears her strong suit a whole year: The slight and fickle age is past; And clothes, as well as fashions, last. Weavers, that join'd rich silk with plate, 375 And all the trades subordinate, Are gone; still peace and plenty reign, And every thing is cheap, though plain: Kind nature, free from gard'ners force, Allows all fruits in her own course; 380 But rarities cannot be had, Where pains to get them are not paid. As pride and luxury decrease, So by degrees they leave the seas. Not merchants now, but companies 385 Remove whole manufactories. All arts and crafts neglected lie; Content, the bane of industry, Makes 'em admire their homely store, And neither seek nor covet more. 390 So few in the vast hive remain, The hundredth part they can't maintain Against th' insults of numerous foes; Whom yet they valiantly oppose: 'Till some well fenc'd retreat is found, 395 And here they die or stand their ground. No hireling in their army's known; But bravely fighting for their own, Their courage and integrity At last were crown'd with victory. 400 They triumph'd not without their cost, For many thousand bees were lost. Harden'd with toils and exercise, They counted ease itself a vice; Which so improv'd their temperance; 405 That, to avoid extravagance, They flew into a hollow tree,