Some syng and daunce for lyfe,
Some Carde and Dyce as ryfe,
Some vse olde Christmas Games:
But I oh wretched wight,
In dole both day and night
Must dwell, the world so frames.
In Court what prety toyes,
What fyne and pleasaunt ioyes,
To passe the tyme away?
In countrey naught but care,
Sower Cheese curdes, chiefest fare,
For Wyne, a Bole of Whay.
For euery daynty dishe
Of Flesh or else of Fishe
And for your Drincke in Courte:
A dish of yong fryed Frogges,
Sodde houghes of mezled Hogges,
A cuppe of small Tap worte.
And for ech courtly syght,
Ech shew that may delight
The eye, or else the minde:
In Countrey thornes and brakes,
And many miery lakes,
Is all the good you finde.
And for fyne Enteryes,
Halles, Chambers, Galleryes,
And Lodginges many m••e:
Here desert Wooddes or playne••,
Where no delight remaynes,
To walke in too and fro••.