And thus the voyce doth multyplye Amonge[292] your graces commonaltye: Thei are in suche greate penvry[293] That thei can nother sell nor bye, Suche is theire extreame povertye; Experyence dothe yt verefye, As trothe itselffe dothe testefye. This is a marveilous myserye: And trewe thei saye, it is no lye; For grasyers and regraters, Withe to[294] many shepemasters, That of erable grounde make pastures, Are thei that be these wasters That wyll vndoo your[295] lande, Yf thei contynewe and stande, As ye shall vnderstand By this lytle boke: Yf you[296] yt overloke, And overloke agayne,[297] Yt wyll tell you playne [298] The tenour and the trothe, Howe nowe[299] the worlde yt gothe Withe my neighbour and my noste,[300] In every countre, towne, and coste, Within the circumvisions Of your graces domynyons; And why the poore men wepe For storyng of suche shepe, For that so many do[301] kepe Suche nombre and suche store As[302] never was seene before: [What wolde ye any more?] The encrease was never more. Thus goythe the voyce and rore: And truthe yt is indeade; For all men nowe do breade Which[303] can ketche any lande Out of the poore mans[304] hande; For who ys so greate a grasyer As the landlorde[305] and the laweare? For at[306] every drawing daye The bucher more must paye For his fatting ware, To be the redyare[307] Another tyme to crave, When, he more shepe wold have; And,[308] to elevate the pryce, Somewhate he must ryce Withe a sinque or a sice, So that the bucher cannot spare, Towardes his charges and his fare, To sell the very carcas bare Vnder xijˢ or a marke, [Wiche is a pytyfull werke.] Besyde the offall and the flece,[309] The flece and the fell: Thus he dothe yt sell. Alas, alas, alas, This is a pitious case! What poore man nowe is able To have meate on his table? An oxe at foure[310] pounde, Yf he be any thynge rounde, Or cum not in theire[311] grounde, Suche laboure for to waste: This ys the newe caste, The newe cast from the olde; This comon pryce thei holde; Whiche is a very ruthe, Yf men myght saye the truthe. The comons[312] thus dothe saye, They are not able to paye, But _miserere mei_:[313] _Vox populi, vox Dei_; O most noble kyng, Consydre well this thynge! 3.