Yet better leave off with a little loss, Than by much wrestling to lose the gross. HOB. Now, Diggon, I see thou speakest too plain; Better it were a little to feign, And cleanly cover that cannot be cured; Such ill, as is forced, must needs be endured. But of such pastors how do the flocks creep? DIG. Such as the shepheards, such be their sheep, For they nill listen to the shepheard's voice; But if he call them, at their good choice They wander at will and stay at pleasure, And to their folds yede at their own leisure. But they had be better come at their call; For many have unto mischief fall, And been of ravenous wolves yrent, All for they nould be buxom and bent. HOB. Fie on thee, Diggon, and all thy foul leasing; Well is known that, sith the Saxon king,[15] Never was wolf seen, many nor some, Nor in all Kent, nor in Christendom; But the fewer wolves (the sooth to sayn) The more be the foxes that here remain. DIG. Yes, but they gang in more secret wise, And with sheeps' clothing doen them disguise. They walk not widely as they were wont, For fear of rangers and the great hunt, But privily prowling to and fro, Enaunter they might be inly know. HOB. Or privy or pert if any bin, We have great bandogs will tear their skin. DIG. Indeed thy Ball is a bold big cur, And could make a jolly hole in their fur: But not good dogs them needeth to chase, But heedy shepheards to discern their face; For all their craft is in their countenance, They be so grave and full of maintenance. But shall I tell thee what myself know Chanced to Roffin not long ago? HOB. Say it out, Diggon, whatever it hight, For not but well might him betight: He is so meek, wise, and merciable, And with his word his work is convenable. Colin Clout, I ween, be his self boy, (Ah, for Colin! he whilome my joy:) Shepheards such, God might us many send, That doen so carefully their flocks tend. DIG. Thilk same shepheard might I well mark, He has a dog to bite or to bark; Never had shepheard so keen a cur, That waketh and if but a leaf stur. Whilome there wonned a wicked wolf, That with many a lamb had gutted his gulf, And ever at night wont to repair Unto the flock, when the welkin shone fair, Yclad in clothing of silly sheep, When the good old man used to sleep; Then at midnight he would bark and bawl, (For he had eft learned a currës call,) As if a wolf were among the sheep: With that the shepheard would break his sleep, And send out Lowder (for so his dog hote) To range the fields with wide open throat. Then, when as Lowder was far away, This wolvish sheep would catchen his prey, A lamb, or a kid, or a weanel wast; With that to the wood would he speed him fast. Long time he used this slippery prank,