I pray yow, be not wrothe For tellyng of the trothe; For this the worlde yt gothe Both to lyffe and[281] lothe, As God hymselffe he knothe;[282] And, as all men vndrestandes, Both lordeshipes[283] and landes Are nowe in fewe mens handes; Bothe substance and bandes Of all the hole realme As most men exteame, Are nowe[284] consumyd cleane From the fermour and the poore To the towne and the towre; Whiche makyth theym to lower, To see that in theire flower Ys nother malte nor meale, Bacon, beffe, nor[285] veale, Crocke mylke nor kele, But readye for to steale For very pure neade. Your comons saye indeade, Thei be not able to feade In theire stable scant a steade, To brynge vp nor to breade, Ye,[286] scant able to brynge To the marckytt eny thynge Towardes theire housekeping; And scant have a cowe, Nor[287] to kepe a poore sowe: This[288] the worlde is nowe. And[289] to heare the relacyon Of the poore mens communycacion, Vndre what sorte and fashyon Thei make theire exclamacyon, You wolde have compassion. Thus goythe theire protestacion, Sayeng that suche and suche, That of late are made riche, Have to, to, to myche By grasyng and regratinge, By poulyng and debatynge, By roulyng and by dating, By checke and checkematynge,[290] [With delays and debatynge, With cowstomes and tallynges, Forfayttes and forestallynges]; So that your comons[291] saye, Thei styll paye, paye Most willyngly allwaye, But yet thei see no staye Of this outrage araye: _Vox populi, vox Dei_; O most noble kynge, Consydre well this thynge! 2.