Ere Roffy could for his labour him thank. At end, the shepheard his practice spied, (For Roffy is wise, and as Argus eyed,) And, when at even he came to the flock, Fast in their folds he did them lock, And took out the wolf in his counterfeit coat, And let out the sheep's blood at his throat. HOB. Marry, Diggon, what should him affray To take his own where ever it lay? For, had his weasand been a little widder, He would have devoured both hidder and shidder. DIG. Mischief light on him, and God's great curse, Too good for him had been a great deal worse; For it was a perilous beast above all, And eke had he cond the shepheard's call, And oft in the night came to the sheep-cote, And called Lowder, with a hollow throat, As if the old man self had been: The dog his master's voice did it ween, Yet half in doubt he opened the door, And ran out as he was wont of yore. No sooner was out, but, swifter than thought, Fast by the hide the wolf Lowder caught; And, had not Roffy run to the steven, Lowder had been slain thilk same even. HOB. God shield, man, he should so ill have thrive, All for he did his devoir belive. If such be wolves, as thou hast told, How might we, Diggon, them behold? DIG. How, but, with heed and watchfulness, Forstallen them of their wiliness: Forthy with shepheard sits not play, Or sleep, as some doen, all the long day; But ever liggen in watch and ward, From sudden force their flocks for to guard. HOB. Ah! Diggon, thilk same rule were too strait, All the cold season to watch and wait: We be of flesh, men as other be, Why should we be bound to such misery? Whatever thing lacketh changeable rest, Must needs decay, when it is at best. DIG. Ah! but, Hobbinol, all this long tale Nought easeth the care that doth me forhaile; What shall I do? what way shall I wend, My piteous plight and loss to amend? Ah! good Hobbinol, might I thee pray Of aid or counsel in my decay? HOB. Now by my soul, Diggon, I lament The hapless mischief that has thee hent; Natheless thou seest my lowly sail, That froward Fortune doth ever availe: But, were Hobbinol as God might please, Diggon should soon find favour and ease: But if to my cottage thou wilt resort, So as I can I will thee comfort; There mayst thou lig in a vetchy bed, Till fairer Fortune shew forth his head. DIG. Ah! Hobbinol, God may it thee requite; Diggon on few such friends did ever light. DIGGON'S EMBLEME. _Inopem me copia fecit._ (Plenty has made me poor.) [Illustration: OCTOBER AEGLOGA DECIMA CUDDIE'S EMBLEME] OCTOBER. ÆGLOGA DECIMA. ARGUMENT.