As if twere an arraignment, not a feast;
And look’t soe like the hangings they stood nere,
None could discerne which the true pictures were;
These now shall be refresh’t, while the bold drumme
Strikes up his frollick, through the hall they come.
Here might I end, my lord, and here subscribe
Your honours to his power: But Oh, what bribe,
What feare or mulct can make my muse refraine,
When shee is urg’d of nature and disdaine?
Not all the guard shall hold mee, I must write,
Though they should sweare and lye how they would fight,
If I procede: nay, though the captaine say,
Hold him, or else you shall not eate to day;
Those goodly yeomen shall not scape my pen;
’Twas dinner-time, and I must speake of men;
So to the hall made I, with little care
To praise the dishes, or to tast the fare;
Much lesse t’ endanger the least tart, or pye
By any waiter there stolne, or sett by;
But to compute the valew of the meate,
Which was for glory, not for hunger eate;
Nor did I feare, (stand back) who went before
The presence, or the privy-chamber doore.
And woe is mee, the guard, those men of warre,
Who but two weapons use, beife, and the barre,
Began to gripe mee, knowing not in truth,
That I had sung John Dory in my youth;
Or that I knew the day when I could chaunt
Chevy, and Arthur, and the Seige of Gaunt.
And though these be the vertues which must try
Who are most worthy of their curtesy,
They profited mee nothing: for no notes
Will move them now, they’re deafe in their new coates:
Wherefore on mee afresh they fall, and show
Themselves more active then before, as though
They had some wager lay’d, and did contend
Whoshouldabusemeefurthestatarmesend